Manifest Destiny
by Kelida Flynn Slippin Mickeys
Summary: In a post-colonization world wracked by upheaval, Mulder and Scully must battle to find themselves, each other, and the vaccine, with the help of those they meet along the way.
1. Prologue

  
Title: Manifest Destiny  
Authors: Kelida Flynn and Slippin' Mickeys  
Category: S, A, R  
Keywords: Alternate Universe; Mulder/Scully Romance  
Rated: R -- for lots of swearing :D  
  
Summary: In a post-colonization world wracked by upheaval, Mulder and  
Scully must battle to find themselves, each other, and the vaccine, with the   
help of those they meet along the way. Out of a world encrusted withash, they must rise.   
  
Feedback: Oh God, YES. Please. I mean, really...Do you really want to make two grown  
women cry? It's a bit, well you know, and rather ugly. As for constructive criticism,   
Kelida's retired and Slippin' Mickeys...well, as for her, let's just say it involves   
flaming dungbombs and that's just for starters. SO...our email addresses:  
  
Kelida: kelida_flynn@hotmail.com Slippin': red_phile@yahoo.com   
  
Archival: Please link directly to http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Crater/3303/md_story.html,   
but please email kelida_flynn@hotmail.com and/or red_phile@yahoo.com for permission first.  
  
Disclaimer: Really, what do you think? Although Invictus, Elspeth, Richter, Cass, and   
company belong to us. So there.  
  
Authors' notes and thanks at the end. NOW ON WITH THE SHOW!  
  
------  
  
"Manifest Destiny"  
by Kelida Flynn and Slippin' Mickeys  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
All things past and future color the night. This was a lesson learned   
hard and at a high cost, as are all things of any significance. The   
world had ceased being a paint-by-numbers place  
ages ago, but no one had ever bothered to notice until now, when it   
demanded to be seen as well as heard.  
  
They had not seen it coming. It had always been a possibility lingering   
at the fringe, but the reality? They could not, and had not,   
fathomed it. Even if they had somehow foreseen it, they could not have   
prevented it-this melting of midnight onto the landscape. What   
remained now could not be erased. The only option left was to redraw   
it, beginning and ending at the points of regret, joined together by a   
line asymmetrically absurd and beautiful as the journey it traced, and   
the people it connected.  
  
  
END PROLOGUE  



	2. The American Ideal

Chapter One  
  
  
  
Manifest Destiny.  
  
An American ideal. The aspirations of these United States to expand. To   
colonize.  
  
Ironic that when colonization began, it started in America.  
  
Not in the chaotic uproar portrayed in Hollywood, but in a strange way,   
it was rather organized. And while not outwardly frenzied, there was an   
underlying hysteria felt by the unsuspecting populace. The  
expression, "they came out of the blue" carried a whole new meaning.  
  
Most were horrified or stupefied, some maniacal and hysterical, but  
overall, the feeling in America was a wrenching kind of sadness from a   
democracy gone bad. When it began there was a collective lamentation   
from the American people as they were stabbed in the back by their own   
government. They should have known. People had been screaming about it   
for years.   
  
Mulder had.   
  
At least that's what they told him.  
  
He thought that it must have been truly a sight to see members of the   
colonizing alien race working side by side with their own military.   
Herding the wayward people along, ferrying them to whatever destination   
would serve the new leaders' purpose.  
  
At least, that's what Mulder had been told.  
  
He woke up in an arcane government institution 300 ft below Lake   
Michigan, with no identity, no memory and no hope.  
  
The only tendril of memory he tried to grasp, was that there was   
something, *someone* out there that he was looking for.  
  
How was he to know that *she* was looking for *him*?  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
It is inbred in the human condition that survival is of the first and  
foremost importance. So when mankind is stripped of its civilization and stability  
the first reaction is to fight back--to the death of necessary. But nature is  
vicious, and it is unforgiving and not all men are fated for survival. So in  
classic Darwinian fashion, only the strongest had survived and the meek did not   
live long enough to inherit the earth. Instead, they were inherited by it  
in ashes and in sorrow.  
  
The survivors, if they could be called that, were the ones spared by the  
blind violence of colonization. They were the ones who had been too  
strong or too scared. They were the men and women who made the decision to run  
the risk of losing their lives to the brutality of their aggressors rather  
than to take their own lives and risk losing so much more in the process. They  
stayed to re-create history and to build the new future from the ruins.  
  
Scully had decided that one of the tragedies of mankind was its tendency   
to repeat history in an endless cycle of mistakes and misunderstandings.  
Yet regardless of it all she still saw the possibility for hope, because as  
those in power continued to corrupt and consume, the oppressed would  
rise and rebel. She still believed in the human spirit, even if the one  
person who had encompassed its passion so completely was gone.  
  
"Dana?" Scully looked up to see her mother coming down the hill. She   
stood up and wiped the sweat from her brow with the wrist of her left hand.  
"It's almost time for the morning sweep-through. You should probably get   
inside soon." Margaret Scully smiled faintly and turned to return to the  
blue-gray house on the Rhode Island shore that had acted as a make-shift  
home to them for the last few months.  
  
"Right," she called out to no one, wiping her soil-stained hands on her  
over-sized pair of overalls. The familiar pattern of dirt against denim  
was  
lately making the garment all her own, and these days having something  
all her own was not so strangely comforting. She had found them hanging  
in the closet of the house that she and her mother now shared  
with six other inhabitants. Scully left the small garden she had been  
tending to and trudged up the small hill.  
  
"Why are they still doing this?" The voice was shrill, a mixture of nerves  
and irritation.   
  
It was more of an open-aired question than a rhetorical one, but  
Scully answered it nonetheless, though not until she was within   
arms-length of Cynthia Adler who occupied the room next to hers.  
Cynthia pressed her nose in between forefinger and thumb, sniffing  
slightly, and waited for a response. Scully studied the woman's angular face and   
then looking down to Cynthia's hands as though she were addressing them and  
replied, "Maybe they're looking for something. Maybe someone."  
  
"And maybe it's just because they want us to fear them," a gravelly  
baritone said. Scully looked to her left and saw Richter McLachlan. He was a  
new addition to the house, only a few weeks, but in his short time there he  
had made a definite impression. "Because that's the ultimate power,  
isn't it? To have complete domination over us?"   
  
Cynthia snorted. "So dramatic!"  
  
Richter smiled, his lips twisted thin and cynical, but he said no more.   
Instead he turned to look at Scully expectantly, as if she owed him some sort of  
response.  
  
But she didn't respond to him. Instead, she continued  
on into the house and up the large wooden staircase to her room.  
In the hallway, on her way to her bedroom, Scully saw Cynthia's  
daughter, Jodie, rocking herself quietly on the padded bench by the  
window. She smiled up as Scully passed, her face older and wearier  
than anyone should have to be at sixteen. She wasn't sure if Jodie had  
been like this before colonization had begun, but it was already a painfully  
obvious reality that the chance to recover any semblance of innocence was long  
past.  
  
Leaving Jodie alone in the hallway, Scully passed into her bedroom, painted  
an uncomfortable, lemon yellow that was supposed to invoke the feeling of  
sunshine and summer, but reminded her more of cats' eyes, curious and dangerous  
at the same time. She rested herself on the bed and tiredly began to  
undress. The knee-high boots came off first, caked with fresh mud and grass. She  
placed them on the ground, a heavy clunk as each shoe hit the hardwood floor. She  
  
rubbed her temples mechanically. She had been getting headaches lately.   
They would start out small and blossom into a full-blown monster. Now, the floor  
below her began to spiral, tumbling downward into nothing. She couldn't see it clearly any  
more. It was something fragmented, a filmy brown grain, static pattern.  
  
"Honey?" Her mother peered into her room. "Are you okay, Dana?"  
Concerned, Margaret entered and sat down next to her daughter.  
Instinctively she wrapped an arm loosely around Scully's shoulder,  
careful to not be too confining, but close enough to be comforting. She  
had noticed her daughter's growing withdrawal in the last few months,  
which she had passed off as part of the adaptation phase into the now world  
  
and their roles in it, but it seemed to her to be a deeper melancholy.  
Days would pass where she would hardly speak more than three word  
sentences or only give a nod of the head yes, a shake of the head, no. But  
  
Margaret gave her daughter the space she seemed to need, although now s  
he was beginning to think that Dana had merely grown over her wounds,   
and that whatever pain she was harboring still resided beneath the surface.  
  
Scully shifted and placed her head on her mother's shoulder.  
"It's so . . . fleeting," Scully breathed out onto her mother's neck. Her  
shoulders  
slumped and she almost collapsed into her mother's arms.  
  
"Fleeting?" she answered quietly. "How is that?"  
  
"Everything feels like it's slipping away," she murmured, eyes averted. "So  
fast." Scully looked up, her eyes wide and wounded. "Is this how the end of the  
world should feel, Mom?" She stifled a sardonic laugh. "Did the Bible ever say  
anything about the four horseman riding in on UFOs?  
  
"Oh, Dana," she sighed, but she had to stifle a sob herself thinking all  
the children she had lost. It wasn't right that a mother should out-live  
so many of her children. But she couldn't dwell on it because grief would  
eat her up much like it was doing to her daughter, and she had to be strong for  
both of them if not just for herself. "I know we've lost so much, honey, but we  
can't let this get us down. We can't. Life's still worth fighting for."  
  
Scully stared, her expression blank. "And what about Charlie . . . ?" She  
choked on his name and could not continue further.  
  
Scully had not seen her brother in over a year when word leaked through  
that she would never be given that opportunity again. Charlie had died  
during the first wave of colonization. It was still a raw memory in her  
mind. She hadn't even known the exact details of his death when she  
first had heard. Not until three days later, and three days before  
Mulder had disappeared, did she find out that Charlie had been selected  
as a host for the full-blown colonists by none other than Bill  
Scully Jr. himself. She couldn't decide with hurt more--Charlie's loss or  
Bill's betrayal.  
  
Then Scully suddenly saw a manifestation of her rage and   
grief grow in her mind. And she saw him. There was Mulder, his  
lips pursed fiercely together as he supported her when she could not  
hold herself upright without fear of falling, or running madly into the  
streets with her brother's blood dripping from her hands. And for a  
brief moment, that was all that should could feel, all that she could  
think of to build up her strength again.  
  
"They're waiting for you downstairs," Jodie said dully, but her eyes  
darting around nervously. Scully watched her shadow of a frame pass from her  
doorway and disappeared down the stairs, her footsteps light; ghostly.  
  
Together, mother and daughter moved to walk down to where heavily-armed   
inspectors waited. They looked cold and inhuman. Their skin was gray,  
their eyes almost milky white. They looked dead. They changed day by day,  
but they still all looked the same. Now, when she thought about it more  
carefully, she couldn't recall ever seeing the same men twice.   
  
Today though, there was no sweep. Instead, they had brought along a woman  
who was struggling against their grasps, but apparently not struggling to  
escape. When she relaxed her face was cold as theirs, but there was a wildness to  
her eyes, and something almost like...mirth.  
  
"She lives here now, too," one of the guards said. "Go on." The left   
guard shoved her forward, and the woman stumbled slightly before she  
straightened herself. She glared darkly at the guards and shot a   
  
Only then did Scully note the electric shackles around the woman's ankles.   
  
A quick click and buzz followed soon after and the shackles disengaged.   
The woman jerked forward slightly, stepped out of her binds and kicked them  
back at the guards. Scully her heard gasp softly and saw her face soften as she  
turned it away from her former captors.   
  
Then the guards left without another word, leaving the residents of the   
house on the Rhode Island shore to stare at this fierce-looking creature   
of a woman who had without warning invaded their crowded house. She   
appraised them one at a time, but said nothing. Her dark eyes betrayed  
nothing as she looked and left them for the kitchen in search of glass of water to  
wet her dry throat, scorching her mark through the corridors of the house in the  
wake of her arrival.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER 


	3. Credero quod consolarit

Chapter 2  
  
Mulder rolled over slowly and groaned. The light was bright and his head  
spun wildly to the left. The pain behind his eyes was reminiscent of a hangover,   
but that didn't go on to explain what was happening to the rest of his brain.   
He closed his eyes and thought of how he'd gotten wherever he was because he couldn't   
remember. Anything. Not his name, his occupation, his family. His mind was  
a total blank, and he was seized immediately by panic.  
  
He sat up quickly and regretted it instantly. His head lolled involuntarily  
toward his chest and he grabbed it with both of his hands.   
  
"Fuck me!" he gasped.   
  
The pain was ferocious, beating in his ears and roared in his veins and  
spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. And then it faded. As quickly   
as it had come, it was gone, and aside from the throbbing in his skull, left no trace of   
its previous existence.   
  
"It speaks!" a loud voice laughed, and Mulder jumped and spun his head to  
his left, seeking its source. "Not the richest language I've heard, but it speaks   
nonetheless." A man stood up from his bunk, across the room from Mulder's bed and   
slowly walked towards him. Mulder followed him silently with his eyes. "Fox   
Mulder," the man stated simply. "I didn't know if they were ever going to  
bring you back here."  
  
"Who?" Mulder croaked, swinging his legs over the bed and digging his palms  
into his eyes. "What the hell is going on?" He mumbled to himself, head still bowed.  
  
The man backed up and flopped back down on his own bed, his white  
scrub-like pants and shirt bunching up beneath him.  
  
"Of all the people who could beat them, I would have thought it'd be you."  
He heaved a sad sigh and continued. "I guess I *am* the only survivor."  
  
"Survivor of *what*?" Mulder asked, slowly meeting the mans eyes with an  
irritated glare.   
  
"This whole bloody travesty, Mr. Mulder. This colonization. This whole  
wonderful expansion. This perfect instance of Manifest Destiny coming back   
to bite us right on the ass." He paused and his expression lightened somewhat.   
"More specifically though, the memory wipe, which you are so obviously suffering   
from." The man ran his fingers back through his dusty blond hair, "You're smart.   
Not smart enough to avoid being captured, but I'd have at least thought that you'd   
beat the memory wipe." He sighed again. "Everything *is* going straight to hell."  
  
"Who are you?" Mulder asked. "Come to think of it, who am I? How do you  
know me? What is this place?"   
  
The man grinned a little and looked at him. "Glad to know they didn't suck  
your personality out too. Still as ever curious as can be."  
  
"Whatever you say," Mulder muttered, rubbing his eyes again. "I take it  
*you* managed to beat this 'memory wipe,'"   
  
"Of course," the older man said, "I'm a survivor."  
  
"Well Mr. Survivor, do you have a name?"  
  
"I have many names. But you can call me. Invictus." He grinned up at  
Mulder. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"  
  
"Spellbinding," Mulder droned in his best sarcastic monotoned cadence. He  
leaned back, glowering at his roommate.   
  
"So, Invictus," he said, putting a nice austere edge on the name, "since  
you managed to beat this whole memory-wipe thing, and since you so obviously   
have an astounding grasp on my current situation, would you mind filling me   
in? Because as you have so astutely pointed out, I'm having a hard time doing   
it myself."   
  
"Easy, Mulder," Invictus said in a hurried whisper. "If you get worked up,  
they're going to hear you. As it is, they don't know the wipe didn't work on   
me. As far as they're concerned, we're no longer two men who know far too much   
about their plans. Plans that are far more sinister and deadly than I think   
even *you* had ever imagined. We're a couple of drones that they've disappeared   
and, are as we speak, probably debating on whether or not to kill us. I'll   
tell you everything I know. I'll do my best to help you regain your memory,   
but you need to realize that unless you act as confused and ignorant as you are   
right now, we stand to lose any and all hope of ever getting out of here. And to   
tell you the truth, I think that there is more hinging on our escape than anything   
you could possibly *hope* to fathom."  
  
He leaned back, surprising his roommate with his sudden concurrence. He  
shrugged at the man's sudden look of surprise. "Do tell."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
It will end where it all began. In a kaleidoscope of perfect moments.  
Perfect love, perfect hate, in perfect destruction, and perfect creation.  
And you will die as you have lived.  
  
Memory would remain. For you could kill a body but never its soul, and  
what is a soul if not a memory. There was hope, but little, in the older man's   
words, his narrative leaving space for conjecture, but precious little for a   
soul to find its mate. And in his tale, the only hope for salvation was in the   
mating of two souls that had been separated time and time again.  
  
During his serene introspection, Fox Mulder could not as yet remember. But  
for some reason, the unlikely, bizarre tale Invictus weaved before him made  
an odd kind of sense. He believed him, though he had no justification as to  
the honesty of the man's story. For all he knew, he could be in an insane  
asylum, his roommate a man living in a world he himself had created.  
  
And while the story held the promise of the most caliginous of dark times  
ahead, it also held hope. Hope for the future, and most importantly, hope  
for himself. And hope was the only thing Mulder had to hold on to.   
  
So Fox Mulder believed.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Mulder sat on his bed, staring at the ground before him, digesting the  
man's story piece by piece. And then he snorted. The snort turned into a  
chuckle, and the chuckle turned into a full blown laugh.   
  
"You know," Mulder murmured between chuckles, "you're one crazy son of a  
bitch, you know that? But for some reason, I believe you." He looked the  
other man in the eye, "God help me, I believe you."  
  
"Credero quod consolarit," the older man muttered.  
  
Mulder took a deep, calming breath and narrowed his eyes, looking at  
Invictus questioningly.  
  
"Credero quod consolarit, Mr. Mulder. 'I believe because it comforts.'"  
  
"Touché," Mulder said, nodding as he sat back down.   
  
"So what do we do?" He leaned forward again and began speaking again in a  
hushed tone. "If what you say is true, what do we do next? How wide spread  
is this colonization? And what can I, *me* of all people, do about it?"  
  
"Listen Mulder," Invictus chuckled at his new friend's reaction, as though  
hearing his name for the first time, "the first thing we have to do is get  
out of here."  
  
Mulder interrupted before he could get another sentence out. "Where is here  
again? I was a little caught up on the 'alien invasion' part of your story  
when you got to the part about where we were being held."  
  
"Michigan." Invictus answered, chewing on the inside of his lip and looking  
fleetingly about the room.   
"Sort of."  
  
"Sort of?" Mulder stated, looking at Invictus oddly. "How are we 'sort of'  
in Michigan?"  
  
"Well, we're technically well within the borders of the state. Only.."  
  
"Only?"  
  
"Only we're 300 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan." He looked to  
Mulder, trying his best to ease into the severity of their situation. "In   
the Straits of Mackinac to be precise."   
  
"Oh!" Mulder said suddenly, as if he'd had an earth-shattering epiphany.   
"So we just hop into the old Bubble Mobile and have Dr. Crenshaw speed us   
on up to the surface, then."  
  
"Of course. Only we'll have to get Melvin, the freshwater wonder dolphin  
to take him a message, because yesterday, while I was running a scan on   
the supercomputer, my transmitter broke." Invictus looked at him   
with disdain. "Look Mulder, I know all of this is a lot to swallow, but  
could you just *try* to work with me here? Please?"  
  
Mulder sighed and reluctantly nodded.  
  
"Now, I have a plan for getting out of here, but we'll get to that later.  
To answer your other questions, the colonization *is* widespread, but it's   
most condensed on the east coast. The further west you move, the less control   
"They" have. Their grip is tightening here in the Midwest, starting with the larger   
cities, as far north as we are, in this relatively rural country, we should be   
okay. But we *do* have to be careful."  
  
"Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase 'go west, young man,'" Mulder said  
quietly.  
  
"Indeed," Invictus agreed. "Look Mulder, we have to make our move soon.  
Once we're out, we have to head south, down to Lansing. I have it on faith that the   
government is secretly working on a vaccine that can stop the colonization dead cold.   
*We* have to get it."  
  
"I don't follow," Mulder said. "Why do *we* have to get it? I mean, how  
can we stop this? If our government has a. a vaccine? To stop colonization, why   
would we have to do anything? The government will use it to take out the aliens,   
or whatever this vaccine does."  
  
"The vaccine actually makes humans immune to effects of a  
certain..."weapon". that the aliens are using to make the population of Earth a slave   
race. But Mr. Mulder, our government can no longer help. While they've developed and   
continue to develop this vaccine, they've been working with the aliens for well over   
fifty years. And now that the aliens have come, our government is useless to stop them.   
They're trying to buy some time by working in cahoots with the aliens, but the aliens are   
too powerful. They have too much control. We're the only ones who can stop this now,   
Mulder. We're the only ones that can do anything. But we need all of the help we can   
get.." He paused. "We need your partner."  
  
Mulder was about to question Invictus once more, when the sound of the lock  
sliding back on the door silenced them both. As the handle was turning, Invictus   
harshly whispered, "Remember Mulder, total ignorance! You don't know what's going on!"  
  
The door opened, admitting two armed men in military fatigues. They  
brusquely walked in, grabbed Mulder by the arms and ushered him quickly   
into the hallway. Mulder shot Invictus a worried glance as the door shut   
swiftly behind him and locked with resounding metallic clank.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"Richter began pacing around the corridor, his face  
spitting mad. "As though we didn't have enough people here. We don't  
even know who that woman is!"  
  
"Will you calm down for once?" Cynthia snarled.  
  
"Will you shut up for once?" he snarled right back, walking straight up to   
her face, close enough to step on her toes.  
  
Margaret then stepped in between them and tried to break up their  
impending fight. Scully, though, was distracted. As the shouts and  
angry curses faded into the background, she found herself following  
the woman into the kitchen. Blue ocean light filtered in through the  
large window by the sink, only broken up by the shape of the woman  
leaning over the sink drinking water out of her cupped hands.  
  
"I'm sorry about this," she began just as Scully had opened her mouth to   
speak. "I don't want to intrude, but I can't help it. They," she said  
this word with such venom and hatred, Scully could almost feel it  
vibrate into her bones, "they are watching me. Us."  
  
"It's not your fault," Scully replied. She moved closer until she was  
leaning next to the dark-haired woman on the counter. "Ignore Richter. He   
can be a real high-strung ass, even when he doesn't apply himself."  
  
She gave a small smile. Scully smiled back. "I'm Scu. . . Dana. Dana  
Scully"  
  
"Scully?"  
  
She smiled softly to herself, as though she were tasting a memory.  
"My . . . friend use to call me that, but he's not around anymore." She   
licked her lips. "Just call me Dana."  
  
"The name sounded familiar." She shifted her feet and turned so she would   
face Scully straight on. "I'm sorry about your friend." There was a  
slight,   
pregnant pause. "I'm Elspeth Parr." She reached out her hand, her long,   
strong fingers grasping Scully's tiny one.  
  
"Nice to meet you Elspeth, under the circumstances." Scully made a  
gesture in the air with her hand. They both grew quiet, shifting  
uncomfortably in the newness of their acquaintance. Suddenly, there was a   
crash of feet running down the stairs and a loud, boisterous voice ringing   
in through the hallway.  
  
"The prodigal son has returned! Jodie!" There was a scoop in  
the cadence of the voice.  
  
Together, Scully and Elspeth migrated towards the front entrance. There   
Jodie Adler stood, a brighter shade of girl, facing a lanky Asian man. His   
face was comically alive, grinning like a man completely unaware of the   
reality around him. There was something certainly enviable in that, Scully  
  
thought as she moved in more to greet Nathaniel Liu, in all his jester-like  
  
fashion.  
  
"Well hello, who do we have here?" Nathaniel's smile suddenly faded as his  
  
eyes focused in on Elspeth. They flickered for a moment of  
recognition, but he turned away somewhat confused and greeted the rest  
of the household.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Six of them sat on the porch and watched with seeming apprehension the  
setting of the sun. As its flaming orange dipped into the cool recess  
of the blue and green horizon, there seemed to be a chill coming in from  
the tide behind them, black and thin, sweeping through like a sonic boom.   
Jodie sat perched on the railing that circled the house. Her hair was made up in  
  
messy braids, and she was resting her head tiredly against a column. The  
only movement she made was the occasional glance over at Nathaniel who was  
busily engaged in conversation with Elspeth. Scully watched them all from her  
seat on the front steps.  
  
Across from her sat Richter sat in a wicker chair. He was leaning back,  
but even then he looked agitated and aggressive. He looked like he could explode  
any second now. Scully brushed away her hair with the palm of her hand and  
took a moment to scrutinize him. She had to admit, he was handsome. There was  
something dangerous--almost animalistic about him, and the magnetism rolled off of  
him in waves. She could also see that beneath that angry veneer in   
his ice blue eyes she was almost sure he was hiding something--pain, she   
guessed. They call carried scars miles deep these days, she thought   
soberly. Some, though, wore theirs like a badge; a right to be angry,  
while some carried their wounds around as ghosts and shadows infused in and out   
through every cell living and dead in their bodies.  
  
Ghosts, Scully thought sadly. I have too many ghosts and too little of   
life around me.   
  
Margaret Scully came by her daughter then, touching Scully's shoulder   
reassuringly. She gazed up at her mother and reached out for her   
hand. She squeezed it, finding comfort in the pressure. Seeing her  
daughter okay, Margaret excused herself and re-entered the house.  
  
" Fate!" Nathaniel trailed off as Scully picked up the tail end of   
their conversation. His hands flew in a nervous flourish.  
  
Elspeth took a long sip of water and smiled with only the corners of her   
lips turning up. "You are so full of shit, Nat!" Elspeth had seemed to  
mellow in the short time she had been with them. " You tell me that   
you believe in fate, but then you also go on about some resistance and how   
we have to fight. If it's all premeditated by fate, then what is the   
point?"  
  
"You don't believe in fate?" Richter barked, surprised, his eyes burning  
into Elspeth the whole time. He had been watching her throughout the entire   
conversation, but what ever his thoughts were, they were a mystery to all  
but himself.  
  
Elspeth turned her dark eyes toward him and leveled him with her stare. "I   
believe in free will, yes," she said slowly, and her voice seemed to   
grow deeper and stronger. There was a gleam in her eye. "I think we   
all manifest our own destinies, even if the universe is full of chaos. Our  
choices are the things that brings a little order to it. "  
  
"But our choices are made to simply carry us along the path that fate  
has already set down, Elspeth!" Nathaniel said emphatically. He slammed a   
fist into the palm of his other hand. "It's fated that the colonists would  
  
come. It was fated that *you* showed up today at this house and not  
another one. It is fated that there is a resistance and that it will fight for its  
  
freedom."  
  
"Sounds like you're just trying to find a loophole to get yourself out  
of having responsibility for your own actions, Nat," Richter said.  
  
"Exactly," Elspeth agreed, a strange look crossing her face as she  
raised an eyebrow at Richter. Turning back to Nathaniel, Elspeth  
continued. "But now tell me more of your branch of the resistance."  
  
"There's a meeting tonight." His voice fell to a hush. "Very covert  
and secretive. Hush, hush, wink, wink, you know." He winked at Jodie.   
He reclined in his seat and asked off-handedly. "Are you all interested in  
coming?"   
  
Elspeth nodded faintly, as did Richter, albeit reluctantly. Jodie was   
all excitement.   
  
Nathaniel turned his attention now to Scully. "Dana? Are you in?"  
  
Scully turned her head up. She paused a moment, almost for the dramatic   
effect, considering the offer. She pursed her lips together and responded   
definitively with the strong voice she had been missing for the last few   
months.  
  
"Yes. Definitely."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
The contrast between the cool night and the throbbing heat of the hidden  
warehouse room was almost enough to knock Scully off her feet, but she  
liked the feeling of a hundred different scenes being attacked all at once.  
She was sandwiched between Elspeth and Richter, with Jodie trailing behind. Bodies  
hit bodies, and they pushed their way until they found the stage where Nat  
was setting up for his speech.  
  
There were more people packed into that small room than Scully had seen in   
ages. They were a cornucopia of races, genders, and from what she  
suspected, there were not only humans, but also hybrids, much like  
Cassandra  
Spender all those years ago. She had to keep this to herself, however.   
From   
what she knew of Richter from their brief acquaintance, it was obvious that  
he had a   
long-standing problem with everything and anything not human. She wasn't  
ready   
to antagonize him or have him go berserk during the meeting.  
  
Nathaniel waved to them from the stage, his arms busy with some wires.  
Scully leaned forward, resting her torso against the stage. Her cheeks  
were flushed, but her hands were cold. She pressed one palm to her face and  
circled around to survey the surroundings. It was dark and wild inside. There were  
people dressed in rags and those dressed in suits. The excited murmur was   
punctuated by enthusiastic yells and screams.  
  
Nathaniel stood up and moved to the podium and called for silence. It took  
him a while, but he kept a happy face on until the crowd finally settled itself  
down.  
  
He paced first, then stopped, a sly smile curving from his mouth.   
"You are all here because you believe in the same cause. You believe in   
preservation, in life. You believe in the human race!  
  
"We can be all talk, though, but what we need is action if we want to save  
ourselves from this cruel fate we have been dealt!" No one else noticed, but Scully  
saw Nat's eyes flicker to Elspeth. He then cleared his throat and shouted,  
"Resist their slavery, their death. Together, we have the genius of a crowd, the  
strength and combined forces to win this battle!"   
  
"Am I supposed to be excited or something?" someone heckled from the crowd.  
Laughter erupted and Nat was visibly discomposed. He shifted his feet and  
a red blush spread to the tips of his ears. The blush soon turned into the red  
of indignation, and his temper flared out as he glowered back at his audience, shouting  
obscenities and for them to quiet down so he could finish.  
  
"Hybrid?"  
  
Scully spun around to see Richter, his jaw set in controlled anger. Elspeth  
turned and stared at him. When he turned his gaze on her, she didn't turn away.   
Instead, she trained her stare even harder until he looked away.  
  
"Don't let your hate overwhelm you, Richter," she said calmly. "There's a  
good man in there somewhere. Let him out." He did not look back.  
  
"Your attention, please!" Nathaniel shouted from the above the roar of  
the crowd. "Come on!"   
  
Elspeth stared up. "What are you doing, Nat?" she asked calmly. He  
reached down and grabbed her hand. "We need you, Elspeth. You. Speech.  
Now."  
  
Nathaniel dragged her up, and she resisted very little. He nudged her  
gently towards the podium and took a step back, relieved to escape the spotlight for now  
at least.  
  
Elspeth blinked out at the audience before her. They were quiet now and  
had all their attention directed trained on the woman on stage. She threw a look back at  
Nat, but he shrugged. It only took a moment though for Elspeth to sink into comfort.   
She suddenly seemed very much in her element.  
  
"Some would say," she began slowly, her eyes downcast, thoughtful, " that  
this is a time for heroes to be made. But who are our heroes? Where have they all  
gone? Have they died? Have they left us? Run away? Who are we to turn to now?" She  
lifted her head and stared out, her jaw set determinedly. "But maybe we are  
asking the wrong question and looking at all the wrong places to be saved." Scully  
saw Elspeth's eyes twinkle. "We can be passive and wait, and hope that our knight in  
shining armor will come galloping by, but is he really going to come? If we keep on  
waiting all we're doing is wasting, and time isn't something we have much of. We  
need to become our own heroes. Nothing's too big, nothing's too small, but we  
cannot sit around and wait." She spread her arms out wide. "Look at what waiting  
and inaction has done to us," she pleaded, "and consider your options. It's  
do or die, and I believe every one of you can grasp the enormity of it."  
  
The enraptured silence continued, and Elspeth continued, her blue shirt   
glowing in the dimness of the room.  
  
"I was brought here a few days ago from a compound in Michigan. And let me  
tell you, it's not just us. Everyone, everywhere is just as bent if not  
broken. I've seen men and women there who were once leaders, but what they've done to  
them . . . they're not the same anymore. They've become shells of their former  
selves. Whimpering babies crying for their mothers. We cannot wait for them  
anymore because even if we did, what could they do?  
  
"This is not to say that this is the situation for everyone, though. There  
was a man I saw there-I think some of you would recognize his name, a Fox Mulder,  
who though tortured was still himself in many ways." Scully gaped, her  
mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water. "He lasted because he  
still had his strength of conviction that we could defeat the colonists, and he  
is still out there fighting for us because he still thinks it's a cause worth  
fighting for. However the question now is, will you fight as he fought? Will you risk  
everything to have your world-your lives-back? Or is this the world you want you and  
your children to live and die in?"  
  
The world suddenly heaved and Scully felt herself jerking as though she  
were caught in a storm. Chills coursed through her body and she felt too much  
blood rushing to her head all at once. She barely noticed Elspeth descending  
from the stage among the growing hum of people around her. Their voices were  
getting louder and stronger and filled with what could only be conviction of their  
own abilities to do good.   
  
Elspeth sidled towards them, her face sweaty but calm with a look of  
immense relief. "That seemed to help," she said thoughtfully, and then looked at  
Scully whose face was white and stricken.  
  
Suddenly she mouthed, "Scully? You? Mulder? You and him?"  
  
"He's alive?" Scully finally managed to croak out. "You know where he is?"  
  
"Well I'll be damned," Elspeth said biting her thumb, an amused smile   
playing on her face. "Damn," she laughed again.   
  
Scully was still paralyzed with the shock when she felt Elspeth grab her  
around the arms in a tight hug leaning in and whispered in her ear, "Apparently we  
have a lot to talk about."   
  
Elspeth released her and turned to Richter with a bemused  
expression on her face. She reached out her hand and tentatively, he took  
itnot so reluctantly.  
  
"Time to go," Nat called, his smile warm and broad, and they left, new men  
and women suddenly transformed by the re-emergence of the human spirit, because  
despite everything. Despite the past. Despite the future. Despite herself, Dana  
Scully was feeling again the glow of caring, the slow rumble in her stomach and shine   
returning to her eyes.  
  
They walked through the beautiful Rhode Island night like worshippers  
returning from a holy crusade. Scully was alive.  
  
If Mulder could rise from the ashes, so could she.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER  



	4. Resistance

Chapter 3  
  
  
  
Mulder was led into a navy blue hallway that curved both to his left and  
right. The only illumination in the dark corridor was provided by small  
yellow lights that peppered the rounded walls like sconces in a castle.   
  
"This way," muttered one of the guards tersely. They kept a firm hold on  
his shoulders and led him to the left.   
  
The hallway kept curving in to the left, leaving Mulder to deduce that the  
building he was being kept in was a circular one.   
  
They came to a tunnel-like hallway that branched off from the annular  
complex, and ended in an exact duplicate. Turning quickly down yet another  
rounded hallway, the guards paused in front of a metallic door that  
resembled an industrial refrigerator. They opened the door, pushed Mulder  
inside.   
  
"Sit down," the guard said, indicating a chair at the end of a long table.   
  
"You won't be joining me?" Mulder pushed out quickly before the door  
quickly slammed shut. "Pity," he muttered to the empty room.  
  
He sat down in the chair and looked about the plain room in mild  
disinterest.   
  
It was the same shade of midnight blue as the hallways, though the lighting  
in this room was a little more bright and cheerful. He was seated in the  
lone chair of the room, which was firmly bolted into the floor at the head  
of a long, white table facing the door. Mulder glanced at his opaque,  
grainy reflection in the metal and drummed his fingers on the table,  
wondering what would happen next.  
  
His silent musings were interrupted then by the door opening. Three men  
entered, one in higher-ranking military dress, the other two in suits, one  
of them sans jacket.   
  
The one in military dress, Army by the looks of it, perched himself to  
Mulder's left, on the other end of the table. The man without the jacket  
leaned back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and  
then glared at Mulder. The other man, the one with the coat, crossed the  
room to Mulder with a pleasant smile on his face and extended to him his  
hand.   
  
Mulder reached out tentatively and took it as the man began speaking.   
  
"Mr. Mulder, my name is Dr. Joel, this is Mr. Fandango," he motioned to the  
man leaning against the door, who merely blinked at him, "and this is  
General Darwin."  
  
Darwin, the man in the uniform, a young man, particularly for a General,  
with close cropped black hair, a strong jaw and a pleasant face, nodded at  
Mulder and offered a courteous "Sir."  
  
Dr. Joel continued.  
  
"Mr. Mulder, I'm not going to beat around the bush, here. I have some  
questions for you. Some very serious questions, and I need very truthful  
answers." He looked to General Darwin and then back at Mulder. "I will not  
tolerate otherwise."  
  
Mulder swallowed hard, examined his fingernails closely, and wondered just  
what the hell was going on.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"I still don't see why we're keeping them alive," Fandango started after  
Mulder had been led from the room. "All of these people. Why we spend  
time, money and resources to wipe their memory and then keep them down here  
in the depths of nowhere." He noticed Joel about to interrupt, so he  
hastily continued. "Wait Jerry, let me finish. I understand who these  
people are. I know they were clued in on what would happen with the  
colonization before even *we* were, and that we stole them away and wiped  
their memories so they couldn't stop it. What I don't see is why we have  
them down *here*. Hidden away from everything, even our own people and the  
colonists. If they were such a threat, why not eliminate them?"  
  
"Jesus, David," Dr. Joel said, looking at Fandango in contempt, "have you  
*been* to the surface lately? Have you *seen* what's going on up there?  
There's been too much death already." He shook his head sadly, and lowered  
his voiced on a sigh. "I can't even believe you'd bring it up."  
  
"And besides," said General Darwin, shoving himself up and off the table  
top, "if everything goes as planned, we'll need them-- All of these  
people." He paused and grinned at Fandango's confused expression. "Haven't  
you been informed, David? These people are essential. And with the right  
stimulation, an absent memory is easily rediscovered."  
  
At Fandango's look of dismay, Darwin elaborated. "He knows things we  
don't, David. He's got the answers to a lot of questions we don't even know  
we should be asking. And we're going to *need* those answers. But we don't  
want him, or any of the others to know the power they have, and we need  
them to be completely accessible when the time *does* come. Contrary to  
popular belief, the shit has NOT hit the fan. It's not even in the same zip  
code."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Mulder was shoved into his cell with more force than necessary. When he  
finally regained his balance, the door had been sealed and locked.  
  
"They work with such finesse."  
  
Mulder looked over at Invictus' bunk, where the voice had come from. The  
older man stood up and faced Mulder, standing akimbo.  
  
"So.what happened?"  
  
"To tell you the truth," Mulder began, "I'm not so sure. They asked me a  
bunch of questions, most of which having to do with whether or not the  
content of the question had any significance to me, and then they showed me  
a few pictures, were apparently content with my reactions and answers, and  
brought me back." Mulder looked Invictus in the eye. "It was all very  
confusing. And considering my current state of mind, I didn't think that  
was possible."  
  
Mulder sighed and flopped down on his bed.  
  
"So what kind of things did they ask you? Can you remember anything  
specific?"  
  
"Not really, they started off asking me if I remember who I am, if I know  
where I am, things like that. They mentioned a few names and dates and  
asked me if they held any significance, seemed satisfied with my answers  
and proceeded to show me a few pictures." He paused, thinking. "I can seem  
to remember general stuff, movies, music, the Presidents-just nothing  
important."   
  
"Do you remember any of the names they asked? Dates?"  
  
Mulder thought hard. The questions they asked him were asked in rapid  
succession, a new one being fired off as soon as he finished answering. It  
must have been to throw him off, but considering he answered every question  
they asked negatively, there wasn't a lot to throw.  
  
"Names. names. nope, none that I can recall off the top of my head." He  
paused, thinking hard. "They did ask if the date August 8th held any  
significance for me though."  
  
At Invictus' sharp exhalation of breath, Mulder sat up in the bed and  
narrowed his eyes at him. "What? What happened on August 8th?"  
  
Invictus snorted in disdain. "What happened? He wants to know what  
happened." He looked Mulder square in the eye and answered him. "On August  
8th, Mr. Mulder, Colonization happened." He sat back down on his own bunk  
and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "And you and I are two of the few  
people that knew ahead of time and actually had the power to stop it."  
  
Mulder sat for a moment in silence and then looked up to Invictus. "So why  
didn't we stop it? What happened?"  
  
Invictus shook his head. "This happened," he gestured around their cell,  
"this *place* happened. It's all gone to bloody hell." He paused a moment  
before sitting up and lowered his voice, bringing Mulder in close to hear  
him. "And while it's too late to stop what already happened, we can still  
do something."  
  
Mulder's tone matched his own. "What can we do?"  
  
Invictus suddenly appeared to lose interest, and rolled over in his bunk,  
turning his back to Mulder. "It's a long story, Mulder. I'll explain on  
the way out."  
  
Mulder was confused. "On the way out *where*?"  
  
Invictus yawned and pulled his sheet up around his body, ignoring Mulder's  
question. "Get some sleep Mulder, I assure you, you're going to need it."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
  
Scully fanned her face with a tattered sheet of paper she had been  
scribbling on for the past three hours. Her eyes were sore; her skin  
dry like sandpaper. She rubbed her throbbing temples with her thumb  
and forefinger, then dropped her arms to the side of the chair and  
stared across the room at Richter who sat hunched over his own work.  
  
Since Nathaniel had brought them full-circle into the resistance,  
Scully had found herself busy again with what she had been good at   
investigating. This time, though, her X-File consisted of a missing  
person's case. Mulder.  
  
She sighed once more, shifting in the wooded chair. Today she had  
interviewed three different people who had claimed to have seen  
Mulder since he had disappeared, but none of the stories had matched  
up with one another.  
  
Elspeth then walked into the room, her hips swaying as though she were  
without care in the world. She approached Richter behind and suddenly caught him  
in her smile. Scully leaned back in her chair and thought, they have no idea what  
they're in for.   
  
She closed her eyes momentarily and found that she  
could only see blue. Like the sky. Like the ocean. Like sadness.  
She briefly opened her eyes; closed them once more. No, not sadness,  
she thought. It was worse than simple sadness. It felt tired. Then  
it came to her in a whisper like the wind. Regret. She licked her  
dry lips with a flick of her tongue. It tasted like sin.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"Scully."  
  
The last time he had spoken to her.  
  
"I think . . . I . . . this is it."  
  
Winsome, like dipping your toes in a pond under Jupiter's gaze. He  
had looked tired. As tired as she felt now, reliving the memory.  
The sunlight hit her face at an angle, and Scully felt herself  
slipping back in time to the day before Mulder had disappeared. The  
day before they had come. Before colonization.  
  
She had walked into the office to see him hunched over his desk  
wearing his leather jacket, a backpack laying on top of papers. He  
had lifted his head as soon as she had entered, though, the five  
o'clock shadow hanging warily on his face. She had stopped at the  
door and they had stared each other down for what seemed like an  
eternity. Something then had passed between them, something  
intangible but very real. She had remembered something catching in  
her throat, and she had lifted her hand to the base of her neck,  
lifting nervously her gold cross that had been lying lazily in the  
hollow of her throat.  
  
"What's wrong," she had asked, drifting closer to him, caught in his  
undertow.  
  
Oh how she wanted to drown in the memory now.  
  
He had attempted a smile; lifted his hands up like Christ in the  
crucifixion. As he lowered them, they cascaded onto her hands, warm  
against the contrast of the cool grain of the desk. A thumb on her  
skin. A gentle, stroking motion back and forth like cool water.  
  
"Nothing yet," he had said, his eyes averted then back, focused in on  
her face, "but maybe soon. I came across this yesterday." He had  
gotten up then, his hands occupied elsewhere. She missed his touch  
as soon as it was gone. "Rumors have been going around that the Date  
is near, but I never realized how soon it really was until I got  
this."  
  
Mulder lifted a vial out of a box. Within the vial was another broken  
glass tube filled with a dark purple fluid. "The vaccine," he had said,  
his eyes alight in wonderment.  
  
"I don't understand," she had told him, "I thought . . ."  
  
"The one that was administered to you--that was mostly theoretical.  
It worked, thank God, but this, this," he blustered, eyes bright, "is  
the real deal. Created by scientists working in a resistance group."  
  
"Resistance to what?"  
  
"Colonization. The destruction of everything we know and love."  
  
"Of the truth," she had said flatly, almost angry. Why . . .  
  
The gaze he had given her then was still vivid in her mind. She had  
been branded by his eyes. He had almost slunk forward, a slight sway  
giving away intentions that he had eventually suppressed, but his  
eyes, they were like Nero sitting mad with his violin as he watched Rome  
burn like an inferno.  
  
"Of everything, Scully." A dip in his voice, like a scoop of vanilla  
moon dropped in chocolate. It made her back off; made her think  
twice before speaking.  
  
"I have to go and follow this up."  
  
"Without me?"  
  
He had hesitated.  
  
"Are *you* leaving now?" she had remarked coldly.  
  
He had lied to her. Maybe to be selfish, maybe to be protective.  
Perhaps both, but he had lied to her, his body painted like a martyr.  
She wanted him back now, with or without that lie that lay like a  
gulf between them. She sighed, a forlorn wind on her lips.  
  
Mulder . . . .  
  
"I'll be back."  
  
"Will you?"  
  
She had not stopped him, even though she knew in her gut he was going  
without her. She wondered about it still. Why had she let him walk  
away? Why had she traveled so far with him only to watch him as he  
crossed another river, turning her back to him as he left without her  
this one last time?  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"Time to go."  
  
Scully jumped in her chair as Richter leaned over and tapped her  
gently on the shoulder. She wiped the drowsiness from her eyes and  
mumbled to acknowledge him.  
  
"Sorry, I was just remembering."  
  
"Yeah." Richter let his tone drop off like the conversation.  
  
"Where's . . ."  
  
"Elspeth left quite a while ago, Dana. What were you thinking about?"  
  
"Um, just some of the interviews I went over today," she partially  
lied. "I found a few things out, but it was mostly ranting and  
raving. This whole thing," she waved with her hand, "God, Richter,  
how did this happen?"  
  
He shook his head, "I don't know. Apathy? Ignorance? Hopelessness?"  
  
She suddenly grasped his arm. "Don't say that. Please." Scully  
loosened her grip. "Sorry," she apologized lamely, recomposing  
herself. "It's just, well, lately, it seems hope is all we have  
anymore. Don't say, don't even think that hope is dying."  
  
"You really miss him, don't you?" Scully ignored the comment and  
continued gathering up her things.  
  
Richter laughed a soft, deep sort of laugh. "Come on, let's get home  
before it gets too dark."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
October in the woods, trekking home to a house on the seashore. It  
should have been something dreamy and romantic about it. A honeymoon  
between two lovers so invested in each other that the tranquility of  
the scene could not compare, yet it was not, and rightfully so,  
because this was no travel catalogue. This was Colonization.  
  
Richter was walking slightly ahead, a flashlight dangling on his  
wrist. It was just starting to get dark. Scully observed him as he  
walked. She smiled to herself as a thought popped into her mind. He  
even walked differently now, and she knew why. She wondered if she  
had changed when . . . a blush instantly rose in her cheeks. What  
had she been thinking? She tried to pass it off as her body's  
reaction to the cold weather, but she had some time trying to  
convince herself. She hugged her jacket tighter around her small  
frame and continued walking, trying to distract herself.  
  
Suddenly, Scully froze in her tracks. Something--someone, was with  
them.  
  
"Richter!" she hissed. Ahead of her, he froze, head cocking from  
side to side. Slowly he reached into his coat for a dagger he kept  
for protection. Scully rotated in her spot, looking up and down for  
the source of the noise.  
  
Then out of a dark patch of brush there came a charging figure,  
menacing in the shadows. Richter raised his dagger, poised for  
attack.  
  
Then like a phantom, Elspeth flew into the light, and realizing that  
Richter was ready to strike, she moved her lithe body quick and  
intense, and disarmed him as easily as one would a child.  
  
"No time for that," she related to them between pants.   
  
From the ground, Richter stared up, all astonishment. Elspeth leaned down  
and helped a dumbfounded Richter up. She grasped him atop one shoulder  
and on the arm, making eye contact with Scully over his shoulder.  
  
"They came to the house tonight," Elspeth hissed.  
  
"What?" both Scully and Richter cried out at once.  
  
"They took Cynthia. I heard some noise downstairs. The guard came  
tonight and dragged her away. I," she paused, eyes trained on  
Richter's face, "I ran." Elspeth's face drained and turned pale with  
shame.  
  
"The others . . . ." Scully left the question hanging in the air.  
  
"They got away. Nat took Jodie and your mother with him. They  
should be okay. Nat is good, really good. He has connections deeper  
and more tangled than cyberspace. We shouldn't be too worried."  
Elspeth let go of Richter. "I don't think this was random. I  
haven't heard about them just grabbing people randomly and doing . .  
.. whatever, with them. I think they've been watching us, and this  
is a threat."  
  
"But how?" Richter asked adamantly.  
  
"Why didn't they take us?" Scully said, reeling in the shock.  
  
"I don't think they knew that we were going to be gone from the  
house. I don't think they know where we've been operating from, but  
it's possible that someone we've spoken to might have been reached  
and revealed us. Exactly what did you find out about Mulder today,  
Dana?"  
  
Scully was numb. "They last saw him in Michigan, like you said  
before, and one man rambled on about a vaccine, but we knew they had  
one. I was . . ."  
  
"Vaccine?" Elspeth's breath froze in the air. "So you've heard  
about it?"  
  
"What is so exciting about this?"  
  
"I've heard rumors about a new strain. That's what Mulder was  
looking for when he disappeared!"  
  
"I didn't know that," Scully said dully.  
  
"I . . ." Elspeth paused again. "I'm going after Mulder and the  
vaccine."  
  
"What? Elspeth!"  
  
"This is too important. This might be the key to saving us from  
annihilation. Are you two with me?"  
  
"Who do you think you are?" Scully cried out suddenly, her control  
lost. Missy was dead. Charlie was dead. Bill was as good as dead.  
Mulder gone, and now her mother. "Where do you get off just running  
off and chasing these things? What about Jodie and Nat--my mother?  
Don't you care?"  
  
"Who do I . . . Is this not what Mulder would do? Take a chance for  
the greater good? Is this why he left without you? Won't you take a  
chance? Are you so scared, Dana? Do you like being weak, because  
you have to realize that we have no options!"  
  
Scully felt the blood drain from her face. She felt as though she  
had just been slapped. She was appalled, speechless--she was ashamed.  
  
Elspeth sighed, her eyes apologetic. "Dana, I . . . that was uncalled for.  
I'm sorry."  
  
Scully made no response.  
  
Elspeth turned desperately to Richter. "Are you with me? I can't do  
this alone . . ."  
  
Richter threw a glance over his shoulder at Scully, but he was  
caught. "I'll come with you, Elspeth."  
  
"Dana, I'm . . ."  
  
"No. You're . . . right, Elspeth." Scully shook her head. "My  
mother, she, you think she'll be okay?"  
  
"Yes," Elspeth intoned quietly.  
  
"Right then. I'll come with you to end this. To find the vaccine." She  
ran a hand through her hair. "And to find Mulder."  
  
  
END CHAPTER  
  



	5. Escape

Chapter 4  
  
"Mulder? Mulder!" Invictus' intense whisper cut through the haze of  
Mulder's deep sleep.  
  
"What?" Mulder replied in a voice that almost echoed in the walls of the  
cell.   
  
"Shhh! Be quiet!" Invictus said, close to his ear, "put these on. And  
hurry!"  
  
He shoved a bundle of clothing in Mulder's lap and sat down on his bunk to  
quickly lace up a pair of high-ankle leather hiking boots.  
  
Mulder wiped the sleep out of his eyes and unwrapped his bundle, spreading  
the contents out over his bed.   
  
A pair of boots identical to Invictus', a pair of long johns, a pair of  
blue jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a milk chocolate brown, wool sweater, a  
brown leather belt, a pair of boxer shorts with red stars on them, and a  
black, down vest. He gave the clothes the once-over and glanced at  
Invictus, impressed.  
  
"Friend that works at the Gap?" Mulder asked, in a hushed voice.  
  
Invictus smiled, glancing up at Mulder from the backpack he was rummaging  
around in. "Close friend who *looted* the Gap. Now. Get. Dressed."  
  
"Yes sir."   
  
Mulder proceeded to take off his scrubs and put on what Invictus had given  
him. He was surprised to find how well everything fit him. He finished  
dressing and proceeded to lace up his boots, throwing a glance up at  
Invictus.  
  
"So, do you have a plan? And if so, are you going to tell me what it is?"  
  
"Yeah," said Invictus, his attention still focused on the items in the  
pack, "I'll brief you in a minute. Ah!" he said, pulling out a smaller  
pouch, "here we go!"  
  
Mulder watched as the older man unwrapped the leather surrounding the items  
inside. Mulder's eyes widened when he saw what was within.  
  
"Here," Invictus threw him a large handgun in a shoulder harness, a clip of  
ammunition, a long, sheathed hunting knife, an expensive looking black  
Casio G-Shock watch, and a small, compact compass.  
  
Mulder picked up the gun out of its holster and weighed it in his hand. It  
held a vague familiarity, almost a sense of de ja vu. It felt customary,  
somehow, to hold a gun. He processed this thought for a moment, and put the  
gun back in its holster, attaching the harness to his back.  
  
"Am I supposed to know how to use this thing?" he asked.   
  
Invictus pushed a clip of ammo into his own gun, looking Mulder in the eye,  
the whole time. "It's like a cheap camera, Mulder," he said, pointing the  
gun to the floor and squinting one eye to look down the sight. "Point," he  
then cocked the gun, and shoved it into his own holster, "and click."   
  
Mulder snorted quietly, as he attached the knife to his belt and the watch  
to his wrist.   
  
"You sound like a bad action movie."  
  
Invictus snorted back.   
  
"This whole scenario is like a bad action movie." He strapped the pack  
snuggly to his back and checked his own watch, "now, lets get to it, and  
hope we fare as well as most action heroes. Though I could do without the  
seemingly uninhibiting gunshot wounds."  
  
Mulder nodded and moved over to sit next to Invictus on his bunk.   
  
"Alright, shoot."   
  
Invictus started.  
  
"In exactly five minutes, at 5:37AM, a guard is going to come to our door.  
He's a good guy. His name is Dice Powers, and he's the son of a close  
friend of mine. If all goes well, he's going to take us to the sub-pod that  
will take us to the surface, come back here, 'find' that we've disappeared,  
and sound off the alarm. We've got a 35 minute window to get that sub-pod  
to the surface, where there should be a boat waiting for us.   
  
"The way the pods work is that, when one goes up, another goes down.  
They're looped. When we get to the surface, we have to haul ass, because I  
guarantee you that they'll be on the pod at the bottom, hot on our tails.  
Dice assured me that he's got the system worked so that they can't call the  
pod back, or stop it, but they're sure as hell going to follow.  
  
"When we get to the surface, we'll either head to Mackinaw City, or St.  
Ignace, whichever looks more promising, and get our asses to Lansing as  
fast as possible."  
  
"What's in Lansing?" Mulder interjected.  
  
"The vaccine is," Invictus continued. "The government had an elaborate set  
up at Michigan State University. The University has acres of land right on  
campus that were being used for agricultural research. Considering the  
school's reputation, no one questioned their presence. They've been right  
there for years, purifying and working on the vaccine until they got it  
right, and no one was any the wiser. They even tested it on some of the  
animals down there. The veterinary school was the perfect set-up. We've got  
to get down there and find the finished product. From there, we've got to  
get it to people that can and *will* reproduce it and spread it out to the  
masses. So I hope you're prepared for some action, Mulder, because this  
isn't going to be easy."   
  
Mulder blew out a long breath and gathered himself. "I guess I don't have  
much of a choice."  
  
Invictus winked at him. "That's the spirit!"  
  
He then grabbed Mulder's left arm and held it next to his own. "Let's  
synchronize our Swatches."  
  
"Casios," Mulder corrected him.  
  
"Details," said the man, dismissing his comment with a flick of his hand.   
  
That done, Invictus looked at his watch, bending it down to catch the  
half-light the room was illuminated with at nighttime.   
  
He took a deep breath and threw his head to his left and right, cracking  
his neck. "Show time."  
  
Just as the words were out of his mouth, the door latch pulled back, and a  
large, young black man in military fatigues stepped into the room.   
  
"McCloud," the man said. "If you're really going to do this, we've got 25  
minutes. Let's go."  
  
Invictus got up off of his bunk and walked quickly to the door, giving the  
man a brief hug. Mulder followed suit, sans hug, and they headed out of the  
cell, Dice taking the lead, Mulder in the middle and Invictus taking up the  
rear.  
  
"What ever happened to 35 minutes, Dice?" Invictus asked so quietly, Mulder  
worried the young man wouldn't hear him.  
  
"Think of it this way," Dice said, putting his hand on Mulder's chest to  
stop their movement, and glancing up to his left, and then to his watch,  
"you had 35 minutes 10 minutes ago."   
  
He then started up again, giving a quick tug on Mulder's vest to get him  
moving.  
  
He nodded his head up to the security camera, its operating light curiously  
not on as they passed it.   
  
"The best I could do was a 10 minute window."  
  
They continued on that way, Dice stopping and pulling Mulder along every 20  
or so feet until they reached the door to a large chamber.   
  
Dice swiped a card threw the lock next to it, and led them quickly inside  
to the pool where the sub-pod was waiting.  
  
"You've got 25 minutes to get to the surface McCloud," Dice said, "and five  
to get the pod en route, before I pull the alarm. Now go!"  
  
Invictus gave a curt nod and walked up to the young man, taking him by the  
arm.   
  
"Thank you Dice. Thank you for everything."  
  
Dice nodded and gave Mulder a sideways glance before looking back at  
Invictus. "I believe in my father, and I believe in the cause. I did what  
I had to do. Now cut it with the sentimental shit and GO!"  
  
Invictus jumped down onto the top of the pod and cranked the hatch open. He  
threw the pack down into the belly of the sub. "Come on Mulder, get in!"  
  
Just as Mulder jumped down onto the top of the sub-pod, a loud siren began  
to sound, and the red light above the entrance to the room began to flash.  
  
"Shit!" Invictus shouted, "what the hell is that?"  
  
"It's the alarm!" Dice shouted above the siren. "Someone must have found  
the glitch in the surveillance systems! If they find me here with you gone,  
they'll kill me!"  
  
Invictus took in the panicked expression on the young man's face and then  
reached out his hand to him.  
  
"Then come with us!" He shouted.  
  
"I can't!" The man shook his head. "I'm the only inside source left! You  
*need* me here!" Dice bit his lip and drew his own weapon, pointing at  
Mulder and Invictus. "Shoot me!"  
  
Invictus, momentarily startled, realized what the man had in mind and shook  
his head violently. "No! No way!"  
  
"It's the only way! If they find me here shot with my gun drawn, then at  
least I can say that I found you trying to escape and took the necessary  
actions," Dice shouted. "Now do it! And hurry the fuck up about it! Just  
don't hit anything important!"  
  
Invictus grabbed Mulder by the arm and shoved his gun into his hand. "You  
do it. There's no way I could do it in clear conscience."  
  
Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Invictus wouldn't let him.  
  
"There's no time! Now DO IT!"  
  
"Do it!" Dice shouted at him, reinforcing Invictus' instruction.  
  
Mulder raised the gun, hesitated a little, hoping to God he really *did*  
know how to fire a gun with some accuracy, clenched his teeth, and fired.   
  
He saw the man slump to the floor with a fresh wound in his left shoulder.  
Invictus shoved him toward the opening to the sub before he had a chance to  
see if the man would be all right.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Walking in the dark, she wondered how fate had the ability to throw  
together a group of strangers and force them into what would almost be called   
destiny.  
  
Fate. The word tasted strange on her lips as she mouthed it. Nat and   
Elspeth had spoken of fate once back before their sudden new twist of   
situation. She could not decide whether or not she believed it in now, as  
circumstances were so different from the way they had been before.   
Scully swore to herself. Had she ever really believed in it? Had she ever  
  
given herself the option of even considering something so   
fantastical--something so . . . unscientific?  
  
Suddenly she felt herself tumbling forward, her feet rolling on stones.  
  
Elspeth came up behind her and helped her up. "We should all rest, it's   
been a long day." There was a weariness in her dark brown eyes, a finger   
tracing down the worry lines on her face.  
  
Richter walked slowly toward a clearing, whistling them to come over  
toward the sound. Guided by Elspeth, Scully walked out of the woods and found   
herself letting out a small, although happy, gasp. Richter had found a   
shelter. There was an overhanging carved out of stone and overhanging  
vegetation where they settled themselves down. There was a nearby pond, thin and  
still.  
  
"I would kill for a sleeping bag right about now," Richter grumbled as he   
pried small stones out of the dirt to make himself a spot to sleep.  
  
Involuntarily, Scully chuckled and thought instantly of Mulder.  
  
"Good memory?" Elspeth eyed her, a smirk curling at the edges of her mouth.  
  
"Very good," she laughed. "Although it could have been so much better if   
only . . ." She stopped, blushing.  
  
"I won't ask. But may you have sweet dreams about it, Dana."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They woke up not to the sound of birds calling in the early morning, but   
rather to the biting of bugs taking their last fill of blood before death   
and winter.  
  
"We're never going to make it to Michigan at this rate," Richter commented   
as they washed off as much grime as possible in the pond. "We need to move  
  
faster."  
  
"We'll steal a car then," Elspeth said matter-of-factly. She twisted the   
remainder of the water out of her hair, her tresses clumping wetly on her   
back.  
  
"Steal a car?" Richter shot back, questioningly.  
  
"Since when are you up for obeying the rules, boy?" Elspeth snorted and   
walked over to him, her hand curling on his arm like ivy. "It's not a big   
deal. Who do you think is going to mind?" Her voiced dipped. "Who's   
really left to care?"  
  
"Well let's go," Scully said. "Mulder's not the type to just sit around   
waiting for me."  
  
"Right. He wouldn't wait for you." Surprised, she stared back at Elspeth   
who spoke as though she had the wisdom of the world at her disposal. "He'd  
  
head right back in this direction like a rage, looking for you until he   
found you again."  
  
Although she made no response, she turned and found herself smiling. Yes,   
he would do something like that, she thought. Yes, he would.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"So," Richter said, his arms spread out like a gliding bird. "What's   
your pleasure?"  
  
The three of them stood in used car sales lot, a virtual cornucopia of   
selection at their disposal. Always pragmatic, Scully asked, "Would   
anyone happen to know where we can find some keys?"  
  
"Don't worry about that. We can just hot-wire it or something."  
  
"You're the regular criminal, aren't you Elspeth?" Scully smirked.  
  
"Why yes I am!" she responded, sauntering off over to a newer looking   
Saturn. "What do you think? Red? Too sporty, you think?"  
  
Scully walked over to the passenger side. "Locked over here. Do you happen  
  
to have a coat hanger handy?"  
  
Then, like explosive surrounded sound, sirens began blasting from what   
seemed like every direction.  
  
"Where's Richter?" Elspeth shouted over to Scully, her eyes now large and   
panicked. "Where the hell did he go? We have to get out of here. They   
know we're here!"  
  
"Who? Who knows that we're here, Elspeth?"  
  
"Richter!" Spinning, Elspeth broke into a run, hands still slammed shut   
around her ears. "Richter!" Then, like a ghost out of a corridor, Richter   
flew in from behind Elspeth and grabbed her by the waist, his face pressing  
  
against her neck. He whispered something to her and a slow smile spread on  
her face. In his hands, Scully saw a pair of keys shining in the afternoon sun.   
She saw Richter motioning for her to join them, and Scully ran over to  
Richter and Elspeth. They flew over to the car, and taking the key, Richter jammed  
it into a navy blue Honda Accord.   
  
"We gotta go, now!" Elspeth yelled in a panic. "Now!"  
  
Just as she was about the close the door, Scully saw a leather wallet on  
the ground. She grabbed it out of habit and slammed the door shut as quickly  
as possible, and just as Richter floored the car out of the lot.  
  
"Find cover as soon as possible. They can't know where we're going. They   
can't find us or we're dead!" Elspeth slumped into the backseat of the  
car.  
  
"You dropped this, Richter," Scully said, a little abashed that she had  
actually stopped to pick it up among the panic. She was about to close   
the wallet when she noticed something odd on his license. "They would have  
known who you were." She paused, her mouth agape. She shut it and her  
lips formed a thin, angry line. She peered at it again, her eyebrows raised in  
half-moon arcs over her inquisitive eyes. "They would have known that you had been  
here ,Marin."  
  
Richter turned and looked at her opened-mouthed, but he turned back and   
drove on, the sirens still blasting away from behind them.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
  
Mulder dove into the opening of the sub and was quickly followed by  
Invictus who swung the hatch shut and latched it quickly. They shuffled to  
the front of the small craft and took up the two seats behind the controls.  
Invictus who sat on the left, gave the control panel a quick once-over, and  
then looked over to Mulder.  
  
"So," he said, a nervous smile on his face, "do you know how to drive one  
of these things?"  
  
"No," Mulder said, confused at first and then suddenly overly-anxious.   
"You mean you don't?!"  
  
"Well," said the older man, "we kind of skipped over that part."  
  
"Oh, Jesus," Mulder groaned, throwing his head back against the seat rest.  
"I don't *believe* this!"  
  
"Hey Mulder," called Invictus from the other seat, his hand poised on one  
of the switches. Mulder cracked open one eye and rolled his head to look in  
Invictus' direction. "Only kidding!"  
  
With that, he flicked the switch and the pod hummed to life.   
  
Mulder looked around at all the blinking lights and strapped himself in.   
  
"That," he said, grabbing onto the sides of his seat as the sub-pod lurched  
down into the water a few feet, "was NOT funny."   
  
Invictus just smiled and flipped on the exterior lights that highlighted  
the cable the pod was attached to. He worked it up, going slower than  
Mulder was comfortable with.   
  
"McCloud, huh?" Mulder asked, throwing out a question to break the silence  
that had enveloped the craft. "And all this time you were telling me your  
name was Invictus."  
  
"What," the older man said, shaking his mane of silver out of his face,  
"you don't like the name Invictus McCloud? I think it's got a nice ring to  
it."  
  
Invictus looked over to Mulder for confirmation, but Mulder just stared at  
him.  
  
"Okay look, my real name is Curtis McCloud. But I *prefer* Invictus. Don't  
you know what it means in Latin?"  
  
Mulder shook his head.  
  
"It means 'unconquered.' Do you know the poem?"  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Invictus broke into poetic verse.  
  
"Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever Gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul.  
  
In the fell clutch of circumstance,  
I have not winced nor cried aloud,  
Under the bludgeoning of chance,  
My head is bloody but unbowed.  
  
In this place of wrath and tears,   
Looms but the horror of the shade  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds and shall find me unafraid.  
  
It matters not how straight the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,"  
  
At that point, Mulder interrupted him and finished the rest of the poem.  
  
"I am the master of my fate,  
I am the captain of my soul."  
  
"Well," Invictus said, looking over at Mulder, impressed, "I guess you were  
right. *Some* memory stayed intact."  
  
Mulder pursed his lips and nodded, slightly troubled.  
  
He didn't know how or where he'd read and remembered that poem, but it was  
there somehow. Maybe his other memories, the ones that were completely  
absent, would come about in much the same way. At least he *hoped* they  
would.   
  
He rubbed his chin with left hand, feeling the long stubble and realizing  
for the first time that he'd actually grown a beard. He scratched it with  
both hands and looked through the small windshield of the pod at their slow  
progress. The water was utterly black, he could barely make out the floor  
of the lake in the weak light of the pod.  
  
"Can't this thing go any faster," he asked with anxiously.  
  
"No," Invictus replied. "We've got to let this thing pressurize, or it'll  
be. oh, just a *little* uncomfortable. For now, let's not worry about how  
fast we're going, let's just keep our fingers crossed that there won't be  
anyone on the surface waiting for us. We'll have three minutes to get  
everything in the boat that should be up there and off before this thing  
goes back down. Why don't you go grab the pack and strap it on. We're  
going to need to bust a move when we get to the surface."  
  
Mulder unhooked himself and started to make his way into the back of the  
pod when Invictus' voice caught his attention.   
  
"Oh!" He called, "and look around and see if you can find anything handy  
that we can take with us."  
  
Mulder nodded and made his way around the small vessel opening some of the  
smaller hatches and through the covered equipment that was stored in the  
back. They must have just brought a shipment down to the station and not  
unloaded it yet. He pried open one of the crates with a crowbar that was  
hung loosely from the top of the shipment.   
  
He went through the contents quickly, grabbing some food, water, a VHF, and  
a small portable radio. He went through each of the crates in the same  
fashion and also managed to find other small items that might be useful in  
the future.   
  
Then, down at the bottom of the last crate, he found a small package,  
addressed to General Darwin. Ripping it open, he found a small, cylindrical  
metal tool. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but when he pushed the  
button on the side, a long, needle-like protrusion shot up and nearly took  
his eye out. He tucked it safely in the inside pocket on his vest, packed  
up the other things in Invictus' backpack, strapped it on, and made his way  
back up to the front to see how they were progressing.   
  
"How close are we," he asked, sitting down precariously on the edge of the  
seat, the backpack making it difficult to get comfortable.  
  
"Close enough to the surface to start going up fast," replied Invictus,  
punching a few buttons that caused the pod to lurch upward.   
  
Less than two minutes later, they were at the surface. Mulder headed for  
the hatch and just as he was reaching for it, Invictus grabbed his arm.   
  
"Let me go first," he said, pulling Mulder back behind him. "That way if  
they're up there waiting for us, you'll at least have a chance to fight  
back."  
  
Mulder nodded, and Invictus threw open the hatch. He took one step up and  
paused in the opening, letting the dusty orange-gray of early dawn shine in  
thin rays around him to the floor of the sub-pod. He stood there, stopped,  
and just as Mulder was about to open his mouth to ask what was wrong,  
Invictus spoke.  
  
"Oh, sweet Jesus."  
  
  
END CHAPTER  
  



	6. By Any Other Name

Chapter 5  
  
  
"What," Mulder asked, tugging on Invictus' pant leg, "what is it?"   
  
Invictus hauled himself the rest of the way up slowly, and turned, facing  
to the left of the pod, looking out over the water. He blew out a deep  
breath and stood akimbo.  
  
"Just get up here," he said distantly.  
  
Mulder climbed up the ladder, and stood on the deck of the sub, before  
looking up.   
  
"Oh my God," he said, upon raising his eyes.  
  
He had seen destruction of this magnitude before, but never in person. What  
lay before him now, brought out a sick feeling of fear, and dread.  
  
What had once been the longest suspension bridge in the world, if Mulder's  
questionable memory served him, now lay before him in ruins.   
  
The middle section of it, in between the two towers had been blown almost  
entirely away. What remained of the middle was held together by only a  
crumbling slab of concrete, and a few taunt cables. The southern tower had  
collapsed into the straits, only a small portion of it remained above  
water; like a huge white steel gravestone, reaching toward the heavens and  
calling out it's mourning in the sickening groans of steel, twisting in the  
harsh autumn wind.  
  
The northern tower had fared better, and was still intact. What had been  
the roadway had fallen to the waterline, hundreds of feet below. The cables  
that had once held it up, were broken and ripped in all directions, like  
the head of Medusa.   
  
"What the hell happened, here?" Mulder asked in a low tone, quietly, as if  
to not reawaken chaos in its deadly aftermath.  
  
"I don't know," Invictus said. "I can't think of any explanation for this.  
Why would they. I don't understand."  
  
At that moment, the porthole on the sub hissed shut, grabbing both men's  
attention. Bubbles began to come up from the sides of the pod, and it  
hummed to life beneath them.   
  
"Oh shit!" cried Invictus, suddenly alert and turning in all directions  
looking around the top of the sub. "It's going back down!"  
  
Mulder turned a couple of times, unsure of what to do, and then he stopped  
and looked at Invictus. "Where's the boat?" He said, more calmly than he  
felt.  
  
"I don't know," Invictus snapped back, looking about him and seeing no  
craft.  
  
"WHERE'S THE BOAT!?" Mulder shouted.  
  
"I DON'T KNOW!" Invictus yelled, becoming slightly panic-stricken himself.   
  
As the craft lurched to life beneath them, and started to descend, Mulder  
began to hear the sound of a motor growing louder in his ears.   
  
He grabbed Invictus' shoulder and pointed southward, toward the lower  
peninsula, "Shit," he said. "Look."  
  
There was a hard-bottomed inflatable speeding at them from shore. It was  
still almost a mile away, but it was making its way towards them at an  
alarming speed. Invictus looked to the north and swore under his breath.   
  
"There's two of them," he said. "Get in the water. Swim for the bridge."  
  
Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but as he was about to do so, the pod  
completely submerged, and he was in the water anyway. He stepped off of the  
surface of the pod, and the temperature of the water hit him like a ton of  
bricks.   
  
"It's fucking cold," he managed to get out, the chill of the straits  
knocking the breath out of his chest, as Invictus dove in next to him.   
  
"And it's going to get colder. Come on," Invictus answered. "We don't have  
far to go. Those HBI's are going to be here in a minute. Swim like the  
Army's on your ass."  
  
"They are," Mulder replied, trying to adjust his strokes to accommodate the  
pack strapped to his back, and the clothing he was wearing.  
  
"All the more reason to go faster," Invictus replied, gliding past him like  
a merman.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They reached the partially submerged wreckage of the bridge, near the  
middle. The part that had once been I-75, now lay in the water, a line of  
asphalt running up to the remaining bridge like a highway to heaven,  
supported by a few taunt cables and the concrete itself.  
  
The two men heaved their weary bodies partially onto the decayed roadway,  
thoroughly winded.   
  
"I didn't think," panted Mulder, "that we'd make it."   
  
"Then next time," replied Invictus, letting his forehead fall wearily to  
his forearms, "don't think."  
  
They rested for a few minutes, catching their breaths, and watching the men  
in the HBI's cast back and forth in the water for them, searching for the  
escaped prisoner's in the early morning light. The sun was coming up behind  
Mulder and Invictus in the east, over Lake Huron. Mulder hoped the glare  
from the sun helped shield them somewhat. Until they made it up to the  
surface of the bridge, they'd be sitting ducks.   
  
"Come on," said Mulder, slowly pulling his way up onto the highway. "We've  
gotta get up there. We're going to have to climb up to the top."  
  
"You mean you don't want to swim?" Invictus smiled wearily at him as he  
worked his way onto the surface. The structure creaked a little, but held  
their weight.  
  
Invictus laid himself flat against the roadway, the water lapping at his  
sides. He looked up toward the top, gauging the distance and the terrain.  
  
"That's gotta be 200 feet," he said, "at an almost 90 degree angle. Prepare  
to wear your fingertips bloody. This," he looked pointedly at Mulder, "is  
going to be a bitch."  
  
He started to pull himself up the incline, finding the cracks and chunks  
that were missing in the asphalt in plenty, and scaling the wall like a  
pro.  
  
Mulder followed suit, glancing up at Invictus with a slightly annoyed  
glare.   
  
"Are you," he grunted out, "good at *everything* you do?"  
  
"Well," said Invictus, pausing to consider the question, "yes. But if it  
makes you feel any better, I can't fish worth shit and dogs hate me."   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX   
  
Twenty-five minutes and 150 feet later, Invictus paused above a  
much-fatigued Mulder, and swore softly.  
  
"What is it?" Mulder asked quietly.  
  
"I think," Invictus panted, "I think they see us."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"They're coming this way. Fuck. Okay, flatten yourself out, and see if you  
can shimmy over to the side here, get around to the edge, near me, maybe  
they won't see us."  
  
Mulder nodded, saving his energy, and started to slowly make his way to the  
edge of the roadway, flattening himself to the asphalt, praying to remain  
undetected.  
  
"Alright," Invictus whispered above him. "They're right underneath us.  
Don't. Move."  
  
Mulder waited about two minutes, until he finally hazarded a look for  
himself. The HBI was slowly motoring itself away from them, south, toward  
the other tower of the bridge that sticking up out of the water. Invictus  
finally spoke up.  
  
"They must have thought that we thought this was too risky, and went to the  
other tower. They didn't spend much effort looking. If they would have,  
they would have seen us."  
  
Mulder again nodded, and heaved a sigh of relief. Just as he did, the crack  
in the asphalt he was standing on widened, sending chunks of concrete down  
to splash in the water far below them.   
  
"Fuck!" Mulder cursed harshly as he lost his footing and flailed blindly  
with his right hand, barely holding on with his left. His hand hit a cable  
that was hanging down, and he clamped onto it like a vice, swinging onto it  
just as his grip with his left hand slipped. The cable bit into his flesh,  
ripping chunks of skin from his palm as he slid down the cable. His slide  
began to gain momentum until his feet found the metal cord, slowing him to  
a stop. He gripped it painfully with his left hand, bringing in his injured  
right to his chest.   
  
"Mulder!" Invictus nearly shouted, he strained to keep his voice down a  
second time and said, "Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Mulder! Mulder are you  
okay?!"  
  
Mulder remained quiet.  
  
"Mulder?" Invictus whispered, panic beginning to taint the edge of his  
voice, "are you okay, man?"  
  
He waited several heartbeats before Mulder quietly croaked, "No. I'm not.  
I'm. I'm not going to make it."   
  
"Bullshit," Invictus said more confidently. "You're not quitting now. Not  
if I can help it you're not. You're going to make it. We both are."  
  
Just as he finished talking, the gentle breeze that had started when the  
sun had risen just above the waterline picked up a little, gusting slightly  
through the straits. The cable Mulder was hanging from started to swing a  
little, and the bridge itself groaned.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Scully felt the chill run like lightening up her spine as the scene  
unfolded  
before her.  
  
"Marin?" Elspeth's voice threatened, almost animal-like. Poised like a  
mercenary, her eyes dark with betrayal as she held out the slender stiletto  
against the curve on Richter's neck. "Do you have any other names?  
Any other secrets you're keeping from me? From us?"  
  
Scully reached for a gun that was not there, and realizing that,  
frantically tried to recall every bit of hostage training she had  
ever had.  
  
"Elspeth . . . . Elspeth, please." Her voice wavered slightly, the  
weapon shatteringly familiar.   
  
The car continued to roll on the asphalt, the roar of the wind the  
only sound slicing the tension. Richter continued to drive without  
showing an iota of emotion at the situation.  
  
"It's just a name. It means nothing, Elspeth, at least nothing anymore."  
  
"I've heard of you, you know," she said coldly. "You did seem  
familiar--did you somehow recognize me then?" Her voice grew bitter.   
"You seemed to hate me pretty readily back when we first met. Hasn't   
changed has it, Marin? Marin Laine, right? The man who helped slaughter   
hundreds of innocents at Antioch? The butcher--"  
  
"The baker, the candlestick maker. What," an edge gaining to his  
baritone, "do you hope to gain from killing me? Drive us into a  
ditch? Kill us all? I'm controlling the car now." Scully noticed  
his knuckles turning white. Tense. "Don't do something stupid."  
  
"No, we seem to have enough of stupidity in this car to get us through  
purgatory and then straight on through to the gates of Hell." Elspeth was   
seething. The rage had transformed her into a monster.  
  
Overload. It was neural overload. What was happening now--in past  
situations Scully had handled them with the cool, steely demeanor of  
a professional, but she realized now how her life had been on a  
continuous spiral out of control since the colonists had arrived.  
Suddenly, she became livid at her audacity--her utter failure in the  
face of adversity, and then it came like a sonic boom, hot and full  
of madness--the red-faced feeling of shame.  
  
"Innocent men, women and children!" Elspeth cried. "Did you know any of  
them? Did you eve care what you were doing?"  
  
"They were not innocents!" he barked. "They were unnatural. Hybrids.   
Part of the race that came here to destroy us! Am I suppose to have some  
sort of mercy for butchers? Would you?"  
  
"In your case, no."  
  
"We need to stop now, and talk this out. Put that thing away, Elspeth!"  
  
At the intrusion of her voice, Elspeth and Richter both turned to  
look at Scully in surprise.  
  
"And the tank is empty." At that, the red light flashed on, the sound of  
gravel hitting the car's paint job clicking through the dense fog of  
the tension as the car rolled gently to the side of the road. "Put  
it down, Elspeth." Control. She felt its sweetness surge back into  
her body. "You are a rational, intelligent woman. Put the weapon  
down. This can be talked out." Scully said a silent prayer of  
thanks to God, hoping there was still a god out there to hear her.  
  
Elspeth remained where she was, though, the cool, needle-like tip of  
the stiletto pressed tightly against Richter's goose-prickled flesh.  
  
"Please." There was gentleness in her voice, a soothing quality  
Mulder had loved, but never revealed to her. "Please, Elspeth." The  
humanity and fullness of her former-self was returning, a tidal wave  
crashing against her, and Scully embraced each explosion as it broke  
against her.  
  
The blade of the weapon slid back in, a metallic scrape signifying a  
new connection made, but there were still many bridges to cross. Or  
to burn.  
  
The car came to a halt, sputtering dead.  
  
"I'll let you talk, Richter--or Marin. I don't care what your name  
is anymore. Give me a reason not to kill you, or make your peace  
with this world before I do." Scully noticed as Elspeth shot  
her a glance, a definite weariness in her eyes, as well as hesitation  
and fear. But her voice seemed to betray nothing. "Make it good. I have  
a bad memory when it comes to mercy."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
How did it come to this?  
  
"Where do you come off thinking that you have the right to play God?"  
  
How did once allies become enemies? Twisted fate turned into twisted  
cruelty?  
  
"God is dead."  
  
In this darkest of places was it possible to ever be found? Could  
they ever find their way out? Was there another world out there--or  
was it just an illusion? Just a place meant to exist in imagination?  
  
"Did you always have a complete lack of regard for life? Do you  
think yourself a higher being? A life greater than the rest? Do you  
believe that somehow because you think that you are just and good,  
that you will be saved?" Elspeth crouched down and looked Richter  
in the eyes.  
  
Here, beneath the sky; beneath the soulless stars, were they destined  
for failure? Loneliness? Had their goals been too great--too full  
of hope to be allowed to interfere with the chaos of the universe?  
  
"Do you think yourself a hero? Admired for your atrocities? Do you  
live under the pretense that somehow, you are kind? That you are  
loved?  
  
Now, staring into the face of Elspeth Parr, Scully could now clearly  
see layers upon layers of this woman, that she had never seen  
before. Streaked mad like doomsday with rage and pain, Elspeth was  
about to collapse mentally. There was more than anger to her,  
though. Something in her eye--a line curved like a scythe.  
Something had broken inside. Her eyes were wounded.  
  
"Know this: They too were loved. Those hundreds of people. Loved.  
Do you understand that word?" She walked in short steps in an arc  
like the swing of a pendulum. Her voice dropped, gravelly and  
quiet. "Loved. That the anguish of their death . . . can still be  
felt.  
  
Elspeth sunk to her knees, slow and swaying. Her head bobbed  
slightly, hair dipping into the mud.  
  
"It's your chance now. Tell us your side." She stood up slowly,  
little snaps exploding as the vertebrae in her back cracked.  
"Justify your existence." All traces of vulnerability vanished. "I  
dare you."  
  
Darkness was falling. From where she stood, Scully could still see  
Elspeth's and Richter's faces, both strangely contorted like painted  
marionettes. Both rouged with anger. Richter had his head turned  
away, his left leg nervously carving patterns into the dirt. He  
remained silent still.  
  
Scully could not help but find herself confused. She was agitated,  
nervous, and jumpy. In her acquaintance with both of them, she had  
never known this side to exist--the complete coldness and indifference  
to any sort of relationship they had once had before. Although she  
was not sure, she had sensed that Elspeth and Richter had, in the  
months and weeks before their flight from Rhode Island, gotten closer  
to each other. They had let each other into places that Scully was  
certain, no one had reached before--or had not for a long time. It  
was a place that she and Mulder had not even yet reached, in their  
many years together. She bit her lip, unconscious of the action.  
Would she ever be given the option to work things out with Mulder?  
The thought came and went quickly.  
  
"Do you think I'm evil?"  
  
"I don't need to tell you. You should be full well aware of what I  
think about you."  
  
"I'm not so sure anymore, Elspeth. There was one point where I . . ."  
  
"Don't fuck with me. That has nothing to do with this. Pull that  
manipulative shit on me again and I won't even hesitate to kill you."  
  
"Have you ," his voice began gaining a dreamlike quality, "ever done  
something--something that you knew others would find strange or  
harsh--even cruel, but you knew in your heart that it was for the  
greater good? That whatever the immediate consequences of it, that  
the end would justify the means?"  
  
"So this is your excuse? Your rationalization? Tell me, Richter,  
did you even feel an ounce of remorse as you watched all those  
people die? What kind of monster are you?"  
  
"I am not a monster! Stop twisting things around!"  
  
"Do you have any inkling of what you did? You don't--" Elspeth lunged  
forward, hurtling her full body weight towards Richter. On the  
defensive, he planted himself and drew out a knife he had had hidden  
away, and poised it, ready to strike back.  
  
But they were both to be surprised. As quickly as she was capable  
of, Scully reacted. She kicked out her left leg and sent Richter  
falling to the ground and out of the path of Elspeth's murderous  
rage. The momentum propelling her forward, Elspeth found herself  
stabbing at empty air and then sprawled out on the mossy ground. As  
they both recovered and prepared for a counter attack, they looked up  
to come face to face with a determined looking Dana Scully and the  
barrel of a gun aimed at their heads.  
  
They fell silent. Feeling the adrenaline rushing through her, Scully  
took control.  
  
She had noticed during their escape that the car that they had taken had  
not been one that had been for sale on the lot. As they had exited the car   
after the tank had run dry, she had bided her time, leaving the passenger's  
side as slowly as possible in order to search for something--anything that   
could give her an advantage. She had been more thankful than surprised  
when she had found the gun sitting inside the glove compartment. Hiding it in   
the waistband of her pants she almost laughed as she thanked her good   
fortune for living in a country so deep-rooted in fear and paranoia that  
her chances as finding a weapon were in her favor.  
  
"Now you two listen to me. I've been standing here watching you two  
argue. But this," she gestured, jabbing the gun forward, "is drawing  
the line. Whatever past atrocities, they are the past. However  
horrible they were, there are more important things at hand. If  
either of you can remember what we came out here to do." She  
glanced at Richter. "But I do understand the difficulties. Trust is  
a hard thing to gain in the first place. Regaining it may be more  
than impossible." Scully drew in a deep breath. "I could have left  
you two back in the woods in Rhode Island to kill each other or  
whatever other madness you are capable of, but I came along. I left  
my mother--the last of my family and the last link to my old life, to  
come and find this cure for this dying world. To find this vaccine,  
that god dammit, I don't even know really even exists, but I'm here,  
and I want to believe that it does exist, and that it works. God, how  
much I want to believe it."  
  
Her eyes fell to the ground as she tried to regain her composure. "I  
want the both of you to get up now. Back away from each other--I  
still don't trust you two to be near one another, and I'm sure  
neither trusts the other either." Scully lowered her gun. "Now  
there is something I want from you. I want you to put your trust  
back into the objective. Our mission. If you don't think we can do  
this, then we might as well just kill each other right now. What  
will it be? How do you foresee this ending?"  
  
Scully placed the gun on the ground now and kicked it away out of all  
of their reaches.  
  
Elspeth spoke first, her voice growing stronger with each word. "I would   
give my life for this. Anything to make things right again."  
  
They both then turned to look at Richter. He nodded faintly. "I'm  
in." He was quiet for another moment, but then he spoke again. This  
time, though, his eyes were only on Elspeth. "But only if you can  
give me a chance to explain myself and to somehow regain all of which  
has been lost. If you can open your heart and your mind and let  
yourself understand who I am and what I've done, then I will."  
  
A long silence followed and Scully feared that everything that they  
had arrived at was suddenly about to be lost. But Elspeth erased all  
doubt as she struggled to shake the reluctance from her voice. She  
agreed and allowed them to enter into the next round of what would be  
the longest and hardest battle of their lives.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER 


	7. Lost and Found

Chapter 6  
  
Mulder stole a glance down at the water, hundreds of feet below. He cradled  
his right hand to his chest, and barely hung onto the cable with his left.  
The force of the wind had started the cable he was hanging from to gently  
sway in the wind. The backpack was beginning to feel more like an anvil  
hanging from his shoulders than the lightweight pouch that it really was,  
and his arm began to cramp. He began to calculate altitude, velocity, the  
probability of hitting part of the devastated roadway before hitting the  
water, and just what impact would do to a human body, when he felt a  
tugging at his waist.   
  
He looked up to see Invictus attaching a carabiner to his belt.   
  
"Hi there," the man said. He had managed to climb back down to Mulder's  
level, all the while rigging a rope that Mulder had never seen to somewhere  
on the intact surface of the bridge, and now seemed to be attaching it to  
Mulder's newly issued leather belt.   
  
"Hold tight for *two* more seconds," he continued, smiling a little in  
spite of the situation, "let me just get a good knot on here, and you can  
let go."  
  
Mulder grunted his understanding.  
  
"Okay," Invictus said, patting Mulder's shoulder and beginning to climb up  
to the surface of the bridge. "You can let go now."   
  
Mulder did, fell a few feet, and was wrenched up quickly by his trousers.  
  
"Hoo!" He heard Invictus yelp from up above him. "Gravity works!!"  
  
Mulder started catching his breath back as he was being slowly inched up  
the side of the wrecked highway. Before he knew it, he was being helped  
over the edge on to the remaining highway.   
  
He rolled onto his side, and glanced over at Invictus who was huffing and  
puffing, kneeling over the edge, contemplating just how they'd made it. He  
stole a glimpse at Mulder, and gestured over Mulder's head to the other  
side of the bridge.   
  
"Watch the side there. Hell of a drop."  
  
Mulder rolled his head to look, and discovered they were on only a few  
meters of asphalt. There was a large gap, held together by only cables  
before the highway started up again, and the bridge continued south. He  
looked the other way at the line of asphalt that ran north dotted by only a  
few cars, trucks, a state police cruiser, an occasional semi, and one  
school bus.   
  
"I'll give 'em one thing."  
  
Mulder looked up, questioningly.  
  
"When they went to burn their bridges.they weren't kiddin'."  
  
Mulder gave him a small, exhausted smile.  
  
Invictus began to wrap up the rope and said without looking up. "Looks like  
we're headed north."  
  
Mulder shoved himself up on his elbows and began to examine his right hand.  
  
  
"Yeah," he said absently, looking more closely at his shredded palm.   
"Fuck."   
  
Invictus crawled up and stripped the pack off of his back and grabbed the  
first aid kit out of it. He made quick work of bandaging Mulder's hand.  
Mulder thanked him, and unattached the carabiner from his belt. He tossed  
it at the older man.  
  
"Thanks, MacGuyver."  
  
Invictus smiled. "Anytime."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They had walked about a mile north on the bridge, and had another to go  
before they reached the end, when Mulder grabbed Invictus' arm, and paused.  
They had passed the remains of some of the cars, and the school bus, some  
of them charred, some of them spared. He glanced back at the school bus,  
and took a breath.  
  
"Shouldn't we start to be careful? I mean, they're sure to be patrolling  
the end of the bridge aren't they? We'll be sitting ducks just moseying up  
on land, like we're just out for a stroll."  
  
Invictus seemed to consider it for a moment.  
  
"Nope," he finally said. "They won't be patrolling. They probably won't  
even be looking. For one thing, they probably think we're still somewhere  
in the water. For another, why *would* they be guarding this bridge? I  
mean, its not as if someone is actually going to *cross* it."  
  
Mulder licked his lips and started walking again.   
  
"Good point."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Invictus popped his head inside another shattered car window.   
  
"Nobody in this one either."  
  
He turned back to Mulder as they continued walking north on the massive  
structure.  
  
"I wonder where they all are. burned probably."  
  
"Burned?" Mulder piped in, confused.  
  
Invictus opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, closing it. "It's  
probably not information that's relevant anymore. I'll spare you the  
details."  
  
"But-" Mulder began.  
  
"No," Invictus interrupted him. "Let's just. let's not."  
  
Mulder nodded, not pressing the issue. They approached the police cruiser,  
and Mulder took his turn looking inside. Again, they saw nothing. Neither a  
survivor, nor the remains of one.   
  
Instead of continuing on though, Invictus stood back and turned to Mulder.   
"Pop the trunk."  
  
Mulder did so and they rounded the car, looking in the trunk.   
  
"Jackpot," Invictus said, looking over the veritable cornucopia of hidden  
reserves they found there.  
  
There were several shotguns, two handguns, blankets, two sets of protective  
armor, and a teddy bear.  
  
Mulder immediately went for the shotguns, but Invictus grabbed his arm,  
telling him to wait.  
  
"Mulder," he said, "the only things we're going to be able to carry safely  
are the two sidearms, and maybe a blanket."  
  
Mulder thought for a moment. "You're right," he said, "the shotguns don't  
exactly impress 'incognito,' do they?"  
  
"No," Invictus replied, "they don't. But you can take the teddy bear if you  
want it."  
  
Mulder gave him a ill-humored grin and shoved the other gun into the pack,  
starting once again northward. His other gun was miraculously still tucked  
into its holster, as was the sheathed hunting knife and his compass.   
  
The bridge met land, but only a small jutting peninsula, and the bridge and  
roadway continued on along the water.  
  
"So," Mulder said, strolling along the Huron side of the bridge on the  
other side of the guard rail, "what now?"  
  
"Well," began Invictus, but he wasn't allowed to finish what he was going  
to say, as he opened his mouth to speak, a barrage of gunfire erupted, and  
peppered the railing four feet in front of them. Both of them hit the  
ground, sliding as far down along the rocky bank as they could get.   
  
Another wave of bullets went flying above their heads and around them,  
scattering rock and dirt in all directions.  
  
Mulder threw a disgusted look at Invictus and shook his head a little.   
"They won't be *patrolling* it, he said," he sneered at Invictus, "they  
probably think we're still in the *water*, he said. Why *would* they be  
guarding the bridge, he said. Fucking *perfect*." Another round of gunfire  
hit the railing above them, effectively cutting off any further cursing on  
his part.  
  
Invictus looked at Mulder under the arms he had thrown above his head.   
"I'm detecting a little sarcasm."   
  
"I should fucking hope so," Mulder grumbled. "As I was saying before,  
*now* what??"  
  
Invictus, keeping his head low, looked out over the water. His forehead  
knitted together in thought. He pressed his lips together and continued  
looking east.  
  
"Now," he said, "we go to the Island."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"I didn't kill all those people," he told her quietly when he saw Elspeth   
disappear into the brush. Richter did not attempt to gain her sympathy  
with   
sad, large eyes or with a slight tremble to his voice. Scully took a   
moment to look at him. He looked tired. Dark circles were carved under his  
  
eyes like charcoal crescents and too little sleep. Eyes which seemed to   
have grown more gray and lifeless with each passing day. He seemed  
sincere,   
as did his confession to her which may have seemed to come too easily,   
perhaps even too convenient, but it both of them felt it was a necessary   
thing.  
  
Scully tilted her head to look at him, her lips pressed together, although   
not so tightly as to make a line, and waited for him to continue.  
  
He shook his head, his eyes downcast. "But I didn't do anything to stop   
it." Richter cleared his throat, trying to find more confidence in his   
voice. "I actually encouraged it. Helped out." He laughed, a strange,   
sarcastic-toned laugh. "They gave me the credit for orchestrating it all,   
too. 'The Butcher of Antioch.'" He tasted the name for a moment and   
laughed curtly. "I was proud. Still am in a way." He stopped short,   
looked away from her.  
  
She kept her voice soft. "Then why are you telling me all of this then?   
Why don't you tell . . ." she hesitated, then spoke again. "Why is it   
bothering you so much?"  
  
"They killed my family, you know," he said as though she had not spoken.   
"Mother, wife, little boy. Mother blew her brains out when she found out   
about the colonists. Splattered all over the stained-glass windows. My   
wife, Dorothy--she was eight months pregnant with our son. We were gonna   
name him Daniel after my father." He pulled at his jaw, stopping a moment.  
  
"Dot lasted a week more. They wanted our baby for their hybridization   
project." Suddenly he seemed very far away. Scully placed a hand on his   
shoulder, trying to pull him back away from his memories. "Middle of the   
night they came after her. She tried to run . . . cracked her head when  
she   
fell. Died . . ." He grew silent and knelt to the ground. Grabbing a   
fistful of soil, he crumbled the clump to its smaller, finer grains. He   
flung it, some of the soil flying back into his face. "Gone like that.   
You   
know what it's like losing a child you never got to know?"  
  
She grew somber and responded slowly. Sadly. "Yes, I do, actually."  
  
Richter didn't seem to be too surprised, or at least didn't show it.   
"Horrible feeling, isn't it?" He gave another, short, harsh laugh.  
  
"That's an understatement," she answered dryly. "C'mon, Richter," she said  
  
after a brief silence, "we should start setting up camp for the night.   
It's getting dark and we really don't know this area."  
  
"You're right," he agreed almost reluctantly. He stood up and began to  
walk over to gather some firewood. "I can build the fire if you want to start  
on a shelter." She nodded in compliance and began back to the car to search   
for possible supplies to use for bedding or cover. "Dana?" he called   
suddenly.  
  
She turned around. "Yes?"  
  
"I really thought what I did was for the best. From the information I've   
gathered, it seems like the hybrids are the important factor here. They  
are   
somehow the key aspect to the success of colonization. It was the right   
thing to do. I firmly believe that."  
  
She nodded. "If that's what you believe . . ." She walked off, a slight   
jab of pain radiating from her chest. I wish I knew what to tell him, she   
thought as she left him standing, a look of helplessness on his face. Then  
  
again, she thought, I wish a lot of things.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Elspeth had returned with better than a few "supplies" that she had gone in  
  
search of. She came back in a teal-green mini-van loaded with food,   
blankets, and other little necessities.  
  
"Not exactly the glamorous escape vehicle I was hoping for," she said  
wryly, hands on hips with a discerning look on her face as Scully looked through   
the stash, "but it works."  
  
It was a short and very silent meal that they sat through, a few carefully   
selected words here and there about the plans come morning but not much  
more than that. Scully spoke the most, the unacknowledged leader by fact of her  
  
skills and ability, but more so by default as the other two could not be   
asked to implicitly put their trust in the other. When she was not  
speaking though, Scully was observing. Richter, emotionally drained hung his head  
as he ate, a can of corned-beef hash, the sole object of his focus. Elspeth,   
sitting to Scully's right, seemed to be making a conscious, although a   
failing effort, to ignore Richter's existence. She would give quick  
glances in his direction when she thought no one was looking, a mixture of  
distrust, curiosity, and tentative sadness etched on her face.  
  
They slept in the van that night, leaving the last few embers of their   
dinner fire to die out on their own. The other two didn't take too long to  
  
fall asleep, or at least put up the front that they were. Scully made no   
attempt--she was wide awake.  
  
Propped up on the passenger side seat she concentrated on watching the   
remnants of the fire still alive with tiny firefly bursts of warm orange   
color.  
  
Shifting to make herself more comfortable, she turned to face the window  
and saw in it her reflection. She was surprised at what she saw. She looked   
terrible.  
  
"What are we doing?" she muttered shaking her head slightly. Exactly what   
were they trying to accomplish, she thought. If there was a vaccine, why   
were they the ones to find it? Would there not be people who knew about it  
already? What would their purpose be? As important as the objective  
seemed, it was beginning to feel like an empty purpose being pursued in vain. They  
  
would likely die in this venture, she imagined grimly. But, she thought   
again, there was Mulder. Scully signed and closed her eyes once more,   
trying to fight the demons and find a little peace in the darkened world of  
sleep.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They left at Dawn, Elspeth at the wheel of the mini-van. Richter handed   
Scully a map of the Midwest and the Appalachian country that was mixed   
amongst the rest of their supplies.  
  
Their tank full, they drove on in silence watching as the scenery whipped  
by in a blur of autumn colors and a few stretches of nature still clinging  
onto summer. It seemed to Scully that many parts of the country still seemed   
untouched by the effects of colonization. There was a gracefulness and   
peace to many of the roads they drove on, though occasionally they would   
slow as they passed an area littered with burnt vehicles. Somehow   
everything seemed a starker shade of gray.  
  
"Awfully mournful, isn't it?" Elspeth said as she maneuvered around the   
corpses of the cars.  
  
"Like a cemetery," Richter muttered from the back of the car.  
  
Scully turned immediately to look at Elspeth's response, and to her   
surprise, saw her bite her lip and suppress a retort. She wondered what  
was going on.  
  
Their tank started running low somewhere around mid-Pennsylvania. After   
driving for a good 8 hours, they were all in need of stretching out their   
legs some. Elspeth pulled off into a ramp into a small town. Harmony,   
Pennsylvania, population 356. Somewhere in their minds, they all doubted   
that was true anymore.  
  
They pulled into the middle of the town which was never much to begin with   
anyway. Elspeth parked the van in the Bobby's Gas and Food and began   
pumping. Scully headed inside to check for people, gun securely in hand.   
They weren't about to take any unnecessary risks. It was dark inside, so   
any doubts that the station was open for business was immediately pushed   
aside. Inside was dusty, the register forced open and the cash long gone.   
  
"Like cash is any good now," Scully muttered as she continued her scan of   
the building. She found it clear though, and went outside to tell the   
others.  
  
"The rest of the town looks deserted, too," Elspeth said as she screwed the  
knob back on the tank. "The town where I got the van looked like this too.  
  
Dead." She paused and walked out toward the sidewalk. "What really  
bothers me though, is that never did I once see any bodies. Not even a trace. I   
mean, if there had been suicides or if the colonists had maybe massacred  
the people, you would think that there would have been some sort of physical   
evidence. But nothing." She shook her head, clumps of her hair shaking in   
her face. "It's more than a little disconcerting, Dana."  
  
"Maybe they were burned to death . . ."  
  
"There would be bodies still...charred, but bodies." Richter appeared out   
from inside the story, a bag of food gathered in his arms. He ducked into   
the car.  
  
Elspeth made a very visible gulp. "We should get going. Staying in one   
area too long isn't safe, regardless."  
  
Scully didn't hesitate. "Let's go."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
The drive was uneventful and quiet, and peaceful to say the least. Scully   
was now at the helm. It was getting late, but they were taking turns   
resting so they would not have to make any unnecessary stops. Elspeth   
rested in the back and Richter was riding shotgun.  
  
"We don't know too much about her," he brought up when it was around 1AM.  
  
"We're all basically strangers still," she replied. "But we can't really   
afford to be that distrustful of one another right now."  
  
"I . . . don't mean it that way. Not anymore." He rolled down his window   
slightly and took in some night air. It smelled of burnt leaves, though   
Scully couldn't fathom that anyone would be left to even care that the   
autumn leaves were piling up. "Shit, I don't know what . . . Oh my god."   
His words dropped like an anvil falling on her heart.  
  
"What is it?" But she saw it before he could answer her. Helicopters.   
Coming their way. No, she corrected herself. Swooping in their way, guns   
blazing.  
  
"Fuck!" Scully swerved the car around, tires squealing. Elspeth, sleeping  
in the back seat, was rudely awaken, her body slammed into the side of the   
door. There was a roar of expletives.  
  
"What are you doing, Dana?" Richter screamed over the roar of the  
helicopter blades.  
  
"No time to stop! They've seen us already. We have to get out of here!"   
She pressed hard against the accelerator and the van stuttered for a  
moment, then exploded with speed.  
  
Again, without her seatbelt on, Elspeth slammed into the back of Richter's   
chair.  
  
"Jesus Christ, what is this? The fucking Indianapolis 500?"  
  
"Close. We are in Indiana." Scully gritted her teeth. "So when in Rome .  
.. ." She pressed the accelerator down again, the mini-van jerking back  
before it exploded forward again. The roar   
of the chase was inundating her ears.  
  
So much for peace and quiet.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER  
  
  



	8. New Friends, Old Enemies

Chapter 7  
  
  
"Right," Mulder said, "we go to the Island."  
  
Invictus nodded.  
  
"Great," Mulder went on. "HOW?"  
  
"I haven't figured that out yet, now shut up."  
  
The gunfire ceased for the moment, and Invictus shimmied his way up to the  
shoulder to have a look. He watched for several minutes, then motioned for  
Mulder to come up and join him.   
  
"Mulder," he said, "get up here."  
  
Mulder shook his head and refused.   
  
"Forget it," he said.  
  
Another wave of bullets roared through the air above them, and still  
Invictus waved for him to come up.  
  
"Are you fucking crazy?" Mulder harshly whispered at him.  
  
"Yes," Invictus whispered back. "Now get your ass up here."  
  
Mulder threw him a dirty look, and low-crawled his way up to the shoulder.  
  
"Look," Invictus said, pointing to a red pick-up truck parked at an angle  
to them, about 35 yards away, "it isn't them after all. It's some  
civilian."  
  
Mulder squinted and could just make out the head of a figure with a large  
automatic weapon balanced on the bed. "So why the hell is he shooting at  
us?" Mulder asked.  
  
Invictus turned to him. "How the hell should I know?" He turned back to  
watch the figure and muttered, "We've got to get him to stop though."  
  
"And how," Mulder said, "do you propose we do that?"  
  
"Why don't we try asking him?" the older man countered.   
  
With that, he put his hand slowly up in the air, followed by his other one,  
and finally, he stood up facing the shooter.  
  
"Mulder," Invictus muttered quietly without moving his lips, "stand up.  
Slowly."  
  
Mulder rolled his eyes and hesitantly mimicked Invictus' earlier movements.  
  
The figure behind the truck seemed to pause, and raised their head. Then,  
they removed the gun from the bed of the truck and, continuing to train it  
on Mulder and Invictus, walked slowly around the back of the truck, heading  
in their direction.  
  
As the figure got closer, Invictus sucked in a breath.  
  
"What?" Mulder asked in a quiet whisper.  
  
"It's a woman." Invictus answered back.  
  
Mulder squinted to get a good look, and then turned slightly back to him.   
"Yeah," he said, "has it been that long?"  
  
"As a matter of fact."  
  
The woman stopped about 10 yards in front of them.   
  
"Who are you?" she snapped.  
  
"No one of consequence." Invictus answered.  
  
She seemed to let her guard down a little.  
  
"But the consequences are no longer what they seem to be," she countered.  
  
"Neither are we," Invictus answered.   
  
The woman dropped her weapon to her side and strode forward, breathing a  
sigh of relief, holding her hand out to Invictus as she approached.  
  
"Human or hybrid?" She asked, shaking Invictus' hand.  
  
"What do you think?" Invictus answered.   
  
The woman sighed. "I suppose I should have known. I heard about Antioch.  
All of us here did."  
  
Invictus nodded. "It's nice to know the resistance has reached so far out.  
Even way up here."  
  
The woman's face fell, and she looked out to the bridge. "It doesn't take  
much to persuade people to resist," she said, "just an Armageddon."   
  
She looked out over the bridge a moment more, then brightened back up,  
turning back to Invictus and Mulder.  
  
"So," she said, "who are you? And what the *hell* where you doing out on  
the bridge?"  
  
"The name is Invictus. My friend here and I, if you would believe it,  
climbed our way up the bridge to escape some, how should I say this.  
enamored captors? We'd be glad to join your band of resistance, large or  
small though it may be. I'm sure you'll find us," he paused once again,  
then smiled at the young woman, "helpful."  
  
She returned his smile tenfold, saying, "we'd be glad for your help. We  
need all the help we can get!"  
  
She then turned to Mulder, and back to Invictus.  
  
"Who's your silent friend?" She asked.  
  
Invictus turned to Mulder and said, "Fox Mulder, I'd like to introduce you  
to."  
  
"Cassidy Vincent," she said quickly, as if disregarding her own name,  
taking an additional step toward Mulder with wide eyes, then, "Fox Mulder?  
*You're* Fox Mulder?! THE Fox Mulder?!?"  
  
Seeing that she would get no response from Mulder, she turned to Invictus  
for the answer.   
  
"One in the same," he said.  
  
"Holy shit," she said softly, then, she nearly threw the gun up in the air,  
and twirled around excitedly, "Holy SHIT!" she shouted.  
  
Then, she abruptly stopped, and turned back to Invictus.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" she asked.   
  
"They wiped his memory," Invictus said somberly. "In fact, we just  
escaped, which makes me think we should probably get out of sight."  
  
"Of course," Cassidy said, "I'm sorry."  
  
She started down the bank they had just climbed, and started walking along  
the rocks lining the water.   
  
"Come on," she said.   
  
As they walked north, always low and close to the water, Cassidy asked them  
where they had come from and what exactly was up with Mulder, as she kept  
stealing glances back their way.  
  
"Well Cassidy," Invictus said, after answering her first question, which  
was riddled with questions of his own, "I'm not exactly sure how we're  
going to jog his memory, but I have faith that everything will come back to  
him eventually."  
  
"Call me Cass," she said, "and lets hope so. Either way, we've got to get  
you guys to Madison."  
  
"Wisconsin?" Invictus asked. "Sorry Cass, but we're on our way to Lansing."  
  
"Not anymore you're not," she said, stopping. "Wait here."  
  
She disappeared underneath some overhanging tree limbs, and emerged a  
moment later pulling a canoe along the water.  
  
"Get in," she said.  
  
"Where are we going?" Mulder asked, finally finding his voice.  
  
"First?" she said, "we're going to the Island, I live there and we're  
going to need to meet with my group there. And then, we're going to  
Madison."  
  
Invictus opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted him.  
  
"Yes, I did say we, and things have changed since you've been gone, Vicky.  
But get in, I'll tell you all about it later."  
  
"Fine," Invictus said, getting into the stern seat. "But if you don't find  
it possible to call me Invictus, then call me McCloud. Do NOT call me  
Vicky."  
  
"Have it your way," she said, hopping into the front seat and grabbing the  
oar there.  
  
Mulder gingerly got into the canoe, and sat on the floor in the middle. As  
they shoved off and started rowing for Mackinac Island, he leaned against  
his pack.   
  
This is just a bad dream, he thought to himself, a vivid, clear,  
unbelievably realistic, bad dream.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
As they paddled the seemingly endless length of water from the mainland of  
the Upper Peninsula to the Island, Mulder spoke.  
  
"Aren't you afraid the military will come out and investigate all that  
gunfire? I mean, with all that you shot at us, I'm surprised they weren't  
out in full force."  
  
Cassidy shook her blond ponytail. "No. There's gunfire all of the time,  
and since August, the military hasn't done a damn thing about. No one has.  
It's like the frontier all over again. In more ways than one."  
  
As if to illustrate her point, a couple of distant shots rang out, a set of  
dull pops followed by a tearing sound, like God ripping clouds.  
  
"And anyway," she continued, "I've barely seen the military. A couple of  
times maybe in the Straits, but more often they're over at Fort  
Michilimackinac. It seems that after 200 years, the fort is once again a  
military post."  
  
"You know, it's funny," she said, momentarily stopping her paddling to turn  
and look at Invictus and Mulder, "now, instead of the French, British and  
the Indians, it's humans, aliens and hybrids. I guess history does repeat  
itself."  
  
"True," Invictus said, "but if you'll think back to the history of that  
very same fort, you'll find that we're in luck."  
  
Mulder turned to him, and he better illustrated. "The underdogs won," he  
said, dipping his oar back in the lake and stoking hard, "as the Indians so  
ably pointed out, a little ingenuity goes a long way."  
  
"You're right about that," Cass answered from the bow. "But it was a damn  
bloody battle."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They reached the Island and dragged the craft up onto the beach where it  
couldn't be touched by water.   
  
"This way," Cass said, heading up a path that led to a small log cabin,  
with a stable and small barn a little further in. Four horses came out and  
whinnied at them when they neared.   
  
She walked up to the porch that lined the small house and opened the door  
slowly. As soon as she had it open a crack, two black noses appeared  
instantly. Cass said something to them in English, but it was too high  
pitched for either Mulder, or Invictus to make out.   
  
The dogs swarmed around Cass, leaving the lower half of her body a blur of  
ebony, bronze and ivory.  
  
"Gentlemen," she said, turning what little the dogs allowed her, toward the  
two men, "I'd like to in introduce you to Thunder and Lightning. Boys," she  
said, turning back to the dogs, "Invictus and Mulder."  
  
At that point, the dogs seemed to just notice these strangers standing  
there on their porch. At once they launched themselves at Mulder while  
Invictus took a few steps back down the staircase and back into the lawn,  
slowly.   
  
Mulder bent down, scratching behind the dog's ears while they instantly  
fell in love with him.  
  
Then, they pried themselves from Mulder and scrambled to the edge of the  
porch, stopping. The dogs simply stood there looking at Invictus, while he  
did the same back. One of them barked once.  
  
"What seems to be the problem?" Mulder said to Invictus, smiling. "Come and  
make nice."  
  
"I told you," Invictus said, still not moving, "dogs HATE me, Mulder."   
  
"Now *why* would anyone hate *you*?" Mulder asked him back, thoroughly  
enjoying himself.  
  
Cass stepped back out onto the porch and shouted.  
  
"Boys! Go to the barn!"  
  
The dogs obediently scrambled off the front porch and ran in the direction  
of the stable.   
  
She stood in the door and held it open, allowing Invictus and Mulder to  
pass through.  
  
Invictus climbed back up on the porch and brushed by Mulder, irritated.  
  
"Smartass," he mumbled.  
  
Mulder simply smiled to himself and followed him.  
  
"Welcome to my humble abode," she said, shutting the door behind him and  
bolting it. "Bathroom's around the corner."  
  
"Thank God," Invictus said, making a beeline around the corner, leaving  
Mulder and Cassidy alone in the foyer.  
  
"So uh, Mulder," Cass started, opening a nearby closet and depositing her  
large weapon there. "Any ideas on how we're going to get your memory back?"  
  
"I just work here," Mulder said, shrugging.   
  
Although Invictus seemed quite taken with her, but Mulder wasn't quite sure  
he trusted the woman yet. They stood there a moment in awkward silence.  
  
"What's the next order of business?"   
  
The two turned to Invictus who'd emerged from around the corner.  
  
Cass looked at her watch and moved towards the door.  
  
"Now, I'm going to feed the horses," she said. "You two stay put. In an  
hour, we'll leave for the meeting. We'll figure things out from there."  
  
She closed the door behind her, and Mulder and Invictus plopped down on the  
couch.  
  
"Oh yeah," Invictus said in ecstasy, squirming his way deeper into the  
cushions. "You know how long it's been since I've sat in an actual couch?"  
  
Mulder simply narrowed his eyes at him and swiveled his body to talk with  
him. "What are we doing here, Invictus?" He asked. "I thought we were  
supposed to be halfway on our way to Lansing by now."   
  
"Well," Invictus said, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "She seems to be with  
the resistance. And she also seems to know a little more about what's going  
on out here than I do. I don't know if I'd told you this, Mulder, but I've  
been out of touch."  
  
Invictus' tone irritated Mulder. He narrowed his eyes and gnashed his  
teeth, trying to control himself.  
  
"I've trusted you so far, Invictus, because I was offered no other options.  
While what you've said hasn't made the least bit of sense, I've followed  
you and haven't questioned your decisions. But I don't know left from  
right, here. I'm out here swinging in the wind. You could at least tell me  
why you think she'd know more about what's going on than you."  
  
"Fair enough," Invictus answered. "Mulder, before I was captured by the  
military for reasons I still don't really know, I was one of the few people  
on the planet who was in a position to know about, and possibly stop this  
whole colonization. I'm still not sure why they didn't kill us," he said,  
pausing and pondering the question for a moment.  
  
"Anyway," Mulder said impatiently.  
  
"Anyway," Invictus continued, "I wasn't in with the government or anything  
like that, like you might be thinking, but I did have. well, what I guess  
you could call 'inside sources'. What I'm trying to say here, is that I was  
the leader of the resistance before there *was* a resistance. And before I  
was captured, I'd managed to network most parts of the country with other  
groups of people that didn't think what I was preaching to them was all  
horse hockey. We installed a system that I have to say, I'm pretty damn  
proud of, to keep us connected and up to date no matter what was happening  
around the world. If Cassidy and these people she's with are connected with  
that network, they'll have all of the latest information that I was sadly  
lacking down in the depths of the Straits."   
  
"But how did." Mulder began.  
  
"I know you?" Invictus finished for him.  
  
Mulder nodded.   
  
"Well," Invictus went on, "my association with the resistance is actually  
how I met you. I'm afraid it's how we were both captured as well."  
  
Mulder sucked in a breath and turned sharply to Invictus.  
  
"The colonists had attacked most of the big cities on the Eastern seaboard  
in one day," Invictus explained. "Ever see Independence Day?"  
  
At Mulder's blank stare, he went on.  
  
"Anyway, I'd managed to get a hold of you through some mutual friends of  
ours. They'd actually been the ones to help me set up the whole resistance  
network. In any event, you'd set up a meeting with me the next day. Your  
partner was actually supposed to be there too, but for some reason or  
another- you never got the chance to say- she didn't make it. You were at  
the meeting place before I got there, and as soon as I arrived, they  
surrounded us, threw us into the back of the proverbial unmarked van and  
carted us away. I wasn't being careful. They must have followed me."  
  
He stopped a moment and looked at Mulder with a small, sad smile on his  
face. "Even if you're not paranoid, Mulder, it doesn't mean they aren't  
out to get you."  
  
"What happened then?" Mulder asked.  
  
"I think you know the rest," Invictus said. "They gathered us with the rest  
of the poor shmucks that knew too much, wiped our memories- well, *most* of  
our memories- and sank us down into the big lake never to be heard from  
again."  
  
"How the hell did you," Mulder began, but was interrupted by the slamming  
of the front door.   
  
Cass stood in the doorway, brushing some bits of hay off of her jeans.   
"Hungry gentlemen?"   
  
Neither man had to answer. "Starving" might as well have been written  
across each of their foreheads.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They devoured their meal of meat, potatoes, and other vegetables wrapped up  
in a crusty bread. Cass called them pasties.   
  
"You gotta watch how you pronounce that," she said, smiling.   
  
When the dishes had been done, and the scraps had been given to the dogs,  
Cass grabbed a light jacket from the doorway closet and stood by the door.   
"Time to go, guys. We've got to meet the group. Boy are THEY going to be  
surprised!"   
  
Mulder reached to grab his backpack, but Cass stopped him.  
  
"You can leave that here. Don't worry, we'll be back."   
  
Mulder paused, but picked up the bag anyway. "I think I'll just take it  
anyway."   
  
They all exited the cabin into the fresh autumn air. The two men followed  
Cass as she approached the stable. She reached the fence and turned to  
them.  
  
"English or Western?" She asked them.  
  
"Pardon?" Invictus said. They had no idea what she was talking about.  
  
"Do you want to ride in an English saddle, or a Western one?" She said  
slowly, treating them both as very dense.  
  
"You mean we're riding *horses* to this meeting? Where the hell is it?"  
Mulder interjected.  
  
"Yes," she answered, with a hint of contempt in her voice. "The meeting is  
downtown. How the hell else would we get there?"  
  
"Um," Mulder said, "did they stop making *cars* while we were gone?"  
  
"There aren't cars on this Island, Mulder," she said back. "There never  
have been, and there never will be. They're outlawed here. The only way to  
get around is by horse or bike. You should see the space they save on  
parking lots at the Grand Hotel."   
  
Mulder turned to Invictus.  
  
"She's kidding, right?"  
  
"Apparently not," he answered. "I kind of forgot about that part."  
  
He then turned back to Cass.  
  
"Western. For both of us."  
  
She threw them both a brush and headed into the barn.  
  
"Mulder," she said as she was walking. "You get Chauncy. He's the Bay on  
the end there. Mack, you take Brice, she's the Appaloosa."  
  
The dogs appeared then, and sniffed around Mulder's ankles. Mulder held  
the brush up to Invictus. "What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked.  
  
"Use it," Invictus answered dumbly, approaching his horse. "Haven't you  
ever ridden a horse before, Mulder?"  
  
"When I was a kid," he answered.  
  
"Great. No, go with the hair. That's it." He corrected Mulder, then  
continued, "it's like riding a bike."  
  
"So it'll all come back to me?" Mulder asked.  
  
"No," said Invictus with a grin. "But your ass'll hurt like hell when you  
get off."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"Why couldn't it be aliens," Scully thought acidly as the beam from the   
searchlight temporarily blinded her. She pressed down on the accelerator   
hard once more, but the mini-van was not in a cooperative mood. And   
although the speedometer continued to climb higher and faster, it still  
wasn't fast enough  
  
Elspeth leaned over the middle of the drivers and passengers seat. "Why  
are they still chasing us?" she yelled. "I thought we were clear a long time   
ago!"  
  
Scully jerked the wheel again, sending Elspeth careening into the back of   
the passenger side seat.  
  
"Good God!" Elspeth screamed. "At least give me the chance to buckle up   
before you do that again!"  
  
"Why are they still after us?" Scully questioned, a frantic tic in her   
voice. A silence amongst the chaos of noise outside of their inner circle   
hung between them for a moment. Scully wavered somewhere between  
irritation and panic. "Elspeth? Richter?"  
  
"I don't know!" Elspeth said, eyes focusing in on Richter. "Is it possible  
  
that they're after you?" She gestured toward him. "They want revenge for   
what you did at the Antioch Hybrid Camp?" There was no bitterness in her   
voice now. "Is there anything else you haven't told us?"  
  
"I don't see why they would go after me. They've had scores of chances   
before to kill me or interrogate me." He shook his head fiercely. "And  
why would they waste all this effort simply for revenge?"  
  
"Is it possible that they're after you, Elspeth?" Scully yelled as she   
jerked the car sharply to the left. "What were you doing before they took   
you to the house back in Rhode Island?"  
  
She shook her head hard, hair flying east and west. "I don't see why they   
would be after me. I just was a minor player in the resistance groups. I   
planned some things, made speeches, but really, I didn't do anything that   
would be even close to being worth all this trouble."  
  
"Well they obviously don't want us dead," Richter said, stretching his  
hands forward to brace himself against the dashboard as Scully made another hard   
evasive maneuver. "I'd like to find out what they want with us."  
  
"But we don't want them to catch us so we can find out what's behind door   
number two," Elspeth retorted.  
  
Scully was about to respond when suddenly, the lights were gone, sending   
them drifting away into an uneasy silence. Scully's breathing became short  
and shallow--flickering in and out like a candle flame without oxygen. She  
began to slow the car and turned off the lights. Elspeth and Richter   
remained silent as though a word could shatter their fragile luck.  
  
As stealthily as possible Scully turned the car westward and began to scan   
the dark before them for a possible hiding spot. She was operating on a   
thin form of calm panic that she had mustered up in their predicament.   
Heart racing wildly, eyes white and large with fear and apprehension, she   
finally spied a clearing to hide the van. She picked up some speed   
cautiously, their hopes lying in each rotation of the tires. They could   
escape on foot after they were out of the view of danger, Scully reasoned.   
  
Although it would be obvious to their pursuers where they had gone, the  
long stretch of forest would buy them time, especially if they had to go on foot  
through the forest in order to find them . . . unless they had already   
thought of that and had set ambushes for them . . .  
  
But none of this was to be. Destiny had flipped over a new card in the   
game, and one not to their favor. The helicopter had reappeared, roaring   
out from over the trees, its menacing glare was bearing down on them   
directly.  
  
Later Scully would say that in those moments they had screamed, prayed   
quickly and silently for there lives, but none of this horror was actually  
a spot in her memory. She would conclude from the facts later that she had   
pulled sharply to the right, startled, and dropped the mini-van into a  
ditch where it slid for a few feet before it rolled over. She rationalized all  
of this because when she woke however many hours or days later, she could not   
remember anything that had happened in those few seconds before fate  
decided to zig instead of zag.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
White walls and anesthetic fluorescent lights.   
  
It seemed to Scully as she blinked her eyes opened that she had been  
transported into a literary cliché   
misused by far too many teenagers who were probably all dead now.   
  
As she tried to lift her arms to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she came  
into   
contact with resistance.   
  
Arm restraints.   
  
That woke her up.   
  
She groaned as she struggled in her bounds. Out of the corner of her eye,  
she spotted the gleam of silver--the door, a slice of blue-green glass  
hinting there was an out. Then movement startled her and she became momentarily   
frightened that after everything, this was her end, but relief came over her when   
she saw it was another person strapped down onto a similar bed. As she focused in,  
she saw that it was Richter, who was also trying to fight off his bondage.   
Thinking it only logical, she twisted to the other side to see Elspeth--but  
  
Elspeth was not there.  
  
"Richter?" she moaned.  
  
"Dana?" was his weak reply. Then he called out again. "Elspeth?"  
  
"She's not here," Scully said, blowing a strand of hair that had covered  
her face. "I don't know . . ."  
  
"Agent Scully, I see that you've finally come to." The voice was cool.   
Crisp. And sickeningly  
familiar.  
  
It wasn't just the voice so much as it was the vicious tone that  
accompanied   
it that chilled Scully's blood and twisted her gut upside down. She turned  
  
toward the voice, eyes narrowed and intense toward the object of her   
repressed rage.   
  
"Diana," she addressed tartly as the brunette smirked and   
folded her arms, waiting for Scully to continue, "why am I not surprised?"  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER  
  



	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
  
  
They rode down Main Street with Cass in the lead, Mulder in the middle,  
Invictus bringing up the rear and Thunder and Lightning everywhere in  
between.  
  
The sound of nothing but the surf, an occasional sea gull, and the hoof  
beats of the horses on the paved street gave Mulder the creeps. He tried  
not to look out over the water where the twisted, gnarled remains of the  
bridge filled the landscape.   
  
He patted his horse's neck and adjusted the backpack that they'd strapped  
on the back of the saddle. This wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.  
The horse was not averse to having Mulder as his rider, if not a little  
indifferent to the whole thing. It occurred to Mulder that he'd forgotten  
the horses name.  
  
"Cass?" he asked, "Who am I on, again?"  
  
Cass turned a little in her saddle and grinned at him. "That's Chauncy's  
Bad Idea. He can be a little feisty sometimes, but he's a real smooth ride,  
no matter what you're doing. I didn't want to have you thrown and all  
banged up. One case of amnesia is bad enough."  
  
Mulder smiled, and Invictus piped up from the rear.  
  
"So who is everybody else?" he asked.  
  
"You're on Fried Brown Rice, and this," she said, tugging a little on her  
horses mane, "is Bob."   
  
"Huh," said Invictus distantly. It was a little eerie riding through these  
streets, he thought. The souvenir and fudge shops were all dark and  
forbidding. Some still had their doors propped open, and 'Yes! We're Open!'  
signs displayed.  
  
He wondered out loud where all of the people had gone.  
  
"Dead," Cass said, answering his question, "or north. Jakob Bordwell was  
the local nut at the time. Always screaming about this kind of thing  
happening. You should have seen it. He changed in the course of about an  
hour from the village laughing stock to practically mayor. Seems he'd been  
networked with the resistance for some time. He told all of the islanders  
to head north and to tell as many people as they could on the way. It  
seemed to work. Those of us that refused to leave our home have either  
joined up with the resistance here, or left anyway."  
  
"Is Bordwell still here?" Invictus asked. "I wouldn't mind shaking his  
hand."  
  
Cass was silent for a moment.  
  
Then, she said sadly, "No. Jakob died. He and a couple of other guys headed  
down to Lansing to go after that vaccine he was always talking about. We  
got a call from him telling us that we had to get to Madison. That the  
vaccine was no longer at MSU. Alan Shirilla was the only one who made it  
back."  
  
"Are you planning a trip to Madison?" Invictus asked. "Are you still  
networked with the resistance?"  
  
"No," Cass said, a hint of contempt in her voice. "We're drowning in  
political bullshit."  
  
She paused a moment and elaborated. "Of all of the people that should have  
made it back from down state, Alan was the last one I'd expect, OR hope  
for. He's since taken over our little wing, and instead of fighting the  
forces that be, he insists on fighting everyone else in the group. He's got  
a few supporters from who we have left, but, there's about to be a coup  
d'état."   
  
"I see," Invictus said, downhearted. "We almost there?"  
  
"Yep," she said. "It's right up the hill. We meet at the old fort here on  
the Island," she said, smiling. "We thought it kind of fitting."  
  
They proceeded up the steep bluff, and into the enclosure of the old fort.  
Cass' two Coon hounds raced ahead.  
  
They tied up their horses outside of the small, antique chapel, and Cass  
approached the door, knocking twice. It opened, and Cass walked through.   
"I come bearing gifts," she said.  
  
Mulder and Invictus followed her, but as soon as they entered, all activity  
in the small chapel stopped, and all eyes fell on them.  
  
It was silent for a moment, when a man of about 27, shorter, well-built and  
blond stepped forward with a scowl on his face that looked permanent.  
  
"Who are *they*?" he asked without a hint of politeness.  
  
"You won't believe it when I tell you," Cass said, ushering them further  
inside.  
  
She pointed to small group of men and women in the room and introduced them  
to Mulder and Invictus. The seven other people in the chapel, five men,  
two women, nodded to them, except for the man that had spoken up when they  
walked in. "And this," she went on, "is Alan Shirilla."  
  
"We all know who we are, Cassidy," Alan said impatiently, "but who are  
*they*?"  
  
"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Curtis McCloud," she paused as she  
waited for the gasps and mumblings to quiet, then continued. "And Fox  
Mulder."  
  
The man she'd introduced as John Baxter loudly gasped, "No fucking way!"   
  
To which the woman standing next to him, about 30 years his senior, slapped  
him upside his head and said, "Watch it John, we're STILL in a church  
here."  
  
"Hi," Invictus nodded.  
  
"Not funny, Cass," said Alan stepping forward. "Who are they, really?"  
  
"It wasn't a joke, Alan," Cass replied.  
  
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "And just HOW did you happen to come  
across Fox Mulder and Curtis McCloud? They come in on the ferry?" he asked  
sarcastically.  
  
Cass shot him an evil look and proceeded to parlay the entire story to the  
rest of the group.   
  
Most of them came up to Mulder and Invictus and asked them questions, shook  
their hands, and generally got really excited. Even the dogs warmed up to  
Invictus somewhat and got in on the action.  
  
Invictus was just taking a seat at one of the pews when Alan, who had been  
standing by processing the whole story put up his hands and shouted.  
  
"Wait just a God damn minute!"  
  
Everyone stopped their chattering and turned to him.  
  
"Two men you meet on the *Mackinac Bridge* appear and tell you they are  
*Fox Mulder* and *Curtis McCloud* and you just took them at their word?!"  
Alan nearly shouted.  
  
"Yes," Cass replied confidently. "I did. Alan, if they were trying to get  
in here and infiltrate our little band of resistance, you'd think they  
might go for something a *little* more low profile than Mulder and McCloud.  
Anyway," she went on, "they knew the password. And I saw a picture of  
Mulder once. That's him."  
  
"Well," Alan said, striding over to Mulder and sneering at him, "we'll just  
see about that. Come on, we're going to have us a little chat." He grabbed  
Mulder by the arm and led him to the corner of the room.  
  
Cass took a few steps to follow, but Alan put up his hand, stopping her.  
  
"No," he said, "stay there. You've done enough."  
  
Miffed, Cass crossed her arms and plopped down next to Invictus.  
  
Invictus leaned over to her and whispered, "What is he going to do?"  
  
Cass shook her head. "I don't know, Alan usually isn't *this* paranoid."  
  
They both silently turned their heads to watch what was unfolding before  
them.   
  
Alan pushed Mulder into a chair, and leaned in really close, not saying  
anything. One of the other men took place on his other side and kept  
himself busy shooting alternately Mulder, then Cass and Invictus, menacing  
looks.  
  
Mulder just kept his face stoic and leaned back in his chair. "Is this the  
part," he said, "where I say, 'What's all this about?' and then you say,  
'Shut up Mulder, *I* ask the questions.'?"  
  
Cass snorted her laughter, trying to keep it in, but failing miserably.   
  
Alan threw her a dirty look and then turned it on Mulder.  
  
"Am I threatening your alpha male status, Shirilla?" Mulder asked, as he  
attempted to stand.   
  
Alan pushed him back down and moved to stand directly in front of him.  
  
"You know, *Mulder*," Alan stressed, "amnesia is a pretty convenient thing  
to have happen. Especially if you're not up-to-date on your Fox Mulder  
trivia."  
  
"Considering the position I'm currently in, Alan," Mulder said, "I find it  
decidedly *inconvenient* that I can't remember certain aspects of my past."  
  
  
"Oh," Alan burst in, "so now it's *selective* amnesia. Cassidy neglected to  
mention that particular aspect of it."  
  
At that point he turned to look at Cass. She glared at him and stood.  
  
"I was *summarizing* Alan. You're not exactly the portrait of patience."   
  
She took back her seat next to Invictus and sighed.  
  
"Watch where you walk, Alan," she warned him, "before you step in  
something."  
  
"Alright," Alan went on, "let's assume that you ARE Fox Mulder, and that  
you and McCloud did escape from some submarine military fortress." He  
paused a moment while his cohort, Dylan Kopenkowski snickered a little from  
Mulder's other side. "If you were THAT valuable- I don't know why you would  
BE valuable, but let's just say that you were- if you were really that  
valuable to the military, then why did they let you go?"  
  
"They didn't exactly let us go," Mulder said, "they either think we're  
dead, or they think we made it out. I don't know how we did it, but we  
did."  
  
"I think you ARE the military, Fox," Alan said, standing in front of him.  
"I think you're with them, trying to get information from, or disband our  
little assembly here."  
  
Invictus stood. "Shirilla, that's ridiculous. This is stupid. Why don't  
you just let us help you?" He said.  
  
"Okay," Alan said slowly. "Let's say that I accept your help. Let's say I  
accept who you are. What I don't get, is why aren't they after you? Why  
aren't they looking for you? Why aren't they here?"  
  
Just then, a man burst through the door. He was panting hard and doubled  
over for a moment trying to catch his breath. He put his hands on his  
knees and looked up.   
  
"They're coming," he said, gasping for breath. "I saw them down on the  
dock, they've got four wheeler's and they're armed. We've gotta get out of  
here. They're coming."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Chaos ensued.  
  
The members of the group disbanded immediately and made for every entrance  
in the small building.  
  
Cass leapt up from the pew, grabbed Mulder by the arm, knocking Alan out of  
the way in the process, and shoved him toward the exit that Invictus was  
already waiting at.   
  
Cass nearly jumped up onto her horse, and spurred it into a canter almost  
immediately.  
  
Mulder was barely in the saddle before his horse took off after Cass'.   
  
He righted himself as best he could, and held onto the saddle horn in one  
hand, barely managing to keep a hold of the reins in the other.   
  
There seemed to be horsemen everywhere, some ahead of him, and some behind.  
They all seemed to be heading the same direction, toward the back of the  
fort, and then up an enclave and into the surrounding forest.   
  
Cass pulled up suddenly, causing him, Invictus, and two other horses behind  
him to skid to a halt. Cass watched as four of the group that were in  
front of her kept full tilt forward, and looked to her left, trying to make  
up her mind.  
  
John Baxter, who had been behind Invictus trotted up to her. "What the  
hell are you doing, Cass?"   
  
"We should separate!" she said.  
  
"Damn right we should!" Alan nearly shouted, as he came up on her other  
side. "I want to be as far from these two as possible!"   
  
With that, he took off through a path off to the group's left, where Cass  
had been considering going.  
  
"Screw him!" she said, getting flustered. "We'll follow the rest of the  
group, I hope he gets caught!" She was about to take off up a small hill  
to follow the others, when the sound of approaching motors began to hum  
steadily closer from their right.   
  
"We can't go that way anymore!" John shouted, steering his horse to the  
left. "Come on! Let's go!"  
  
A gunshot ripped through the air above them, and into a nearby birch.   
  
Cass' horse reared, but she kept her seat, and spurred him forward.   
  
They were all soon flying through the woods, branches and leaves assaulting  
Mulder from every direction, snapping in his face and tearing at his legs.  
He sat up in the saddle, and, giving up on the reins, grabbed the saddle  
horn in both hands. He ducked his head down by his horse's neck, and  
narrowly missed being decapitated by large beech branch.  
  
Suddenly, the tree line opened up to a large field, over grown with weeds.  
From his vantage point, Mulder could barely make out the one strip of  
pavement that had been the Island's airport. They tore across the field to  
the other side, and Mulder finally started to feel comfortable in his seat.  
Cass had been right, Chauncy's Bad Idea had a very smooth gait. He turned a  
little to find Invictus, but could only see one other horse, bearing two  
riders behind him.   
  
His stomach flip-flopped in his abdomen, and he twisted even more in the  
saddle, searching him out. He lost his newly-found balance almost  
instantly, and quickly tried to right himself. He couldn't. His right foot  
had come out of the stirrup, and he was leaning in that direction as his  
right leg bounced against the horses flank. He flailed out with his left  
hand and grabbed Chauncy's mane, hanging on for dear life as the horse  
continued to run hard.  
  
All of the sudden, the spotted head of an Appaloosa came charging right up  
beside him, and he felt strong hands shove him back up into the saddle.   
  
He worked his foot back into the stirrup and turned his head to smile  
weakly at Invictus, who had appeared, once again out of nowhere to save  
him. Invictus merely nodded once and then looked forward, giving Mulder a  
head's up that they were about to head back into the woods.   
  
Cass slowed down somewhat as they entered the tree line, and she trotted  
along a more clear path, and then down a fairly steep slope that opened up  
on a sandy beach. She pulled up as she got to the waterline. The horses  
were heavily winded, and she dismounted, the rest of them following suit.   
  
Mulder looked at the other riders. Other than he, Cass and Invictus, John  
Baxter, Jessica Morris, who had earlier disciplined him, a small, quiet,  
almost elderly man named Plinket, and a teenaged girl named Katie Swarth,  
had been the other members of the group that had been forced to follow  
Cass.   
  
As Plinket helped Katie down off of his horse, they all turned to Cass.  
  
"Am I in charge, here?" she asked, her voice hesitant but curt, as though  
she found the task unsavory, but necessary nonetheless.   
  
"Might as well be," Jessica spoke up. "You seem to be a little more  
informed than the rest of us."   
  
"Well then," Cass said, "I say we make this a democracy. What do you all  
think we should do?"  
  
"I say we get the hell out of here," Katie piped up from Plinket's side.  
  
"It's an island, Katie," Baxter said. "We can't run forever."  
  
"But we can sure as hell run for a while," said Cass, turning to Plinket.  
"Tom, you know this island better than the island knows itself, where do  
you think we should go?"  
  
Plinket stood for a moment, and simply regarded the water.   
  
"What I think we should do," he spoke, "is decide whether or not we think  
we're ready or not to go out and do what we're all in this to do. We can't  
justly call ourselves a resistance if we don't resist."  
  
"I agree," Jessica said.  
  
"I do too," said John Baxter. "And I think we're ready. We have most of  
the necessary information. The only thing we've been waiting for these past  
few months is for Alan Shirilla to get his head out of his ass. It works  
just fine for me if he isn't in on it at all."  
  
Cass looked to all of the other members. None seemed to have a problem with  
the idea. "If we're going to do this," she said, "then we are presented  
with more than one problem. First of all, we've been split up from the  
others. We really shouldn't do this without them. And for another, how are  
we going to get there? We can't very well swim all of the way."  
  
She stopped and looked to the group as they all pondered what she'd said.  
It was then that Invictus, who'd been standing quietly by, spoke.  
  
"Well," he said, "if you want to know what I think, I think that you should  
go in two groups. That way, if one of you doesn't make it, the other will,  
and should something go wrong, you'd have another group behind you to back  
you up, and supply reinforcements should they be needed."  
  
"You've got a good point," Cass said, "but how do we organize this? We need  
time, and time isn't something that we have a lot of right now."  
  
Tom Plinket spoke then.  
  
"We don't need time," he said, "time is something we've been swimming in  
these past few months. We know what we have to do, and we're relatively  
sure we know how. What we *need* is the balls to just step forward and do  
it."  
  
Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"Cassidy," he said, "I've lived on this Island all of my life. I don't plan  
on dying elsewhere, and I refuse to be bullied off of my home. I think,  
considering the situation, it would be best if you led the group down to  
Arch Rock, while I head back into town. I'll supply up your boat, and sail  
it to Arch Cove. You, John, and these two," he said, pointing at Mulder and  
Invictus, "can all go to Madison from there. I'll take Jessica and Katie  
back, we'll round up the others, and follow you on land."  
  
Cass stood and considered it for a moment. She nodded once, but turned to  
him.  
"I trust you, Tom, but what about the troops back there? How are you going  
to do it?"  
  
"Don't you worry about that," he said. "This is my island. I'll manage.  
I'll be there by sundown tomorrow." With that, he swung up into his  
saddle, and took off down the beach.   
  
Cass grabbed her mount by the reins and pulled it in the other direction.   
"Come on, guys," she said. "We're going to the Arch."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"Aren't they going to see that?" Katie asked from around the circle of the  
fire.   
  
She pointed to the fire and wrapped her arms around her legs, scooting  
closer to it. The horses were nickering softly behind her, content to rip  
leaves off of low hanging branches.  
  
The night had fallen without incident for them, and as the many stars  
winked on above them, they had built a fire to keep warm. No one had  
thought to grab blankets or anything useful when they fled from the chapel.  
  
  
They only had what Mulder and Invictus had in the pack. In their current  
situation, it didn't amount to much.   
  
"No," Invictus said, from across the fire from her. "Don't you worry about  
that. We'll be fine for the night."  
  
He really wasn't confident in what he was telling the girl, but he didn't  
want to scare her. He hadn't thought that building a fire was the best  
thing to do for their safety, but it was extremely cold at night on the  
island, and it was the best thing for their health.   
  
"I wonder if Thunder and Lightning are okay," Cass said, from the outskirts  
of the fire. "I wonder where they are."   
  
"They'll be fine," Jessica said, walking up to Cass and patting her on the  
arm. "Don't you worry about them."  
  
Cassidy nodded and stoked the fire before sitting down.  
  
"We should all get some sleep," she said. "Why don't you all try to get  
some shut eye. I'll take the first watch. John, you take the second."  
  
Baxter nodded.   
  
Mulder and Invictus both opened their mouths to protest, but Cass stopped  
them both short. "With the day you've both had?" She said, "I'm surprised  
you're both conscious. You two sleep, John and I will go back and forth.  
Now lay down, shut up, and go to sleep."  
  
They were both snoring loudly within five minutes.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Mulder wasn't sure what woke him. It was either the cold, a noise, a  
suspicion, or a combination of the three.   
  
He didn't move-his body having been pushed to the limits of endurance all  
day coupled with the cold of the night didn't allow him too.   
  
He opened his eyes and glanced over at John Baxter who was keeping watch.  
  
The man sat still, his body extremely tense. He looked like a gun ready to  
go off. His gaze was fixed in one direction, and Mulder glanced that way  
reflexively, but didn't see any thing.   
  
He took a moment to watch the man, then, quietly he spoke.  
  
"What is it?" he whispered.  
  
Baxter didn't even move. "Listen," he whispered back.  
  
Mulder did.   
  
At first, he didn't hear anything. Then, a few moments later, he heard a  
branch cracking off in the direction that Baxter was looking in.   
  
"What is it?" he whispered again.  
  
"I don't know," the man answered. "But it's closer than the last one."  
  
"Deer?" Mulder offered.  
  
Baxter shook his head. "Maybe, but. I don't think so."  
  
Then, off to the other side of the fire, he heard another branch break,  
this one more distantly. John Baxter swung his head in the direction of  
the second sound and then stole a glance at Mulder.   
  
"That was the first one from over there," he whispered.  
  
Then, back in the direction of the first sound, another branch broke, this  
one much closer than before.  
  
Mulder, aching in every muscle in his body, finally found the strength to  
move. He drew his own gun turned to move.  
  
"Wake the others," he said, his voice a little louder. "I'll untie the  
horses."  
  
John nodded and quietly went around shaking the group.  
  
Mulder rose slowly and silently approached the dozing horses. He was  
almost to them when a figure stepped out of the darkness and directly in  
his path.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
He was almost too shocked and frightened to recognize the man standing  
before him. But realization dawned on him, and he breathed out a sigh of  
both relief and irritation as he lowered his gun.   
  
"Dice Powers," he said, "if you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you."  
  
"You got close enough the first time," the man said, then he motioned  
toward a still sleeping Invictus. "Wake McCloud, I have bad news. It's  
about your partner and a hybrid."  
  
"My what?" Mulder asked confused, but with the stern look from Dice, he  
turned and bent down near Invictus to shake him awake.   
  
"Get up," he said, shaking him roughly. "We have company."  
  
Invictus roused quickly and leapt up to greet his friend.  
  
Mulder and Invictus both approached the man who had saved them, but stopped  
when they were a few feet in front of him. They both just noticed the state  
he was in, and stood, horrified.  
  
His arm was in a tight sling, and his BDU's were soaked. He looked haggard,  
and ready to drop.  
  
"How did you.?" Invictus began to ask him.  
  
Dice didn't wait for him to finish.  
  
"They brought me to the surface for treatment," he said. "They were still  
transporting me when they finally reviewed the tapes of what happened. They  
came in to put me in restraints when I escaped. I stole a military boat and  
came here, figuring I could find you. Looks like I was right."  
  
The three men stood there looking at each other in the firelight, none of  
them saying a thing. Then, Dice took a step forward. "There's a new  
development," he said, "something I just found out and didn't get a chance  
to tell you."  
  
Cass, now awake, walked up to the men, but kept her distance, suddenly wary  
of them. "What's going on here, guys?" She asked suspiciously. She  
wondered if she really had been duped by these two men. She hoped she was  
wrong.   
  
The other members of the group simply sat by the fire, watching and  
waiting. Katie had scootched herself closer to Jessica, and the older woman  
put her arm around her. Neither one looked anything other than scared.  
  
"I'll tell you what's going on!" A voice suddenly shouted out. Alan  
Shirilla stepped out of the woods and into the circle of light, his gun  
drawn and trained on Dice. "Looks like I was right the whole time,  
Cassidy," he said, cocking his weapon. "Looks like they really are one of  
*them*."  
  
"It's not what you think," Mulder said, stepping toward him.  
  
"That's where you're wrong, *Mulder*," Alan said, stepping closer to Dice.  
"It's exactly what I think."  
  
To Mulder, the next second slowed to a honey-dripping pace. It was as if  
the bottom of the hour glass had suddenly become much deeper, and the grain  
of sand, in it's descent, fell and fell and fell, without ever hitting  
bottom.  
  
To Cass, it all happened too quickly.  
  
Mulder and Invictus simultaneously screamed "NO!" Alan's finger pulled back  
on the trigger twice. And Dice Powers' body slumped to the earth at their  
feet with a sickening thud.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER  



	10. Chapter 9

  
Chapter 9  
  
Diana, still smirking in a tailored suit, said nothing. Her face, a few   
lines more grooved than last Scully saw her, looked amused as she watched   
her two captives squirm before her. The click of high heels--amazingly   
insensible attire for the situation they all were in--echoed ghostly and   
tense in the small, rectangular room.  
  
"How is Fox?"  
  
Forgetting herself for a brief moment, but a moment that she had been   
waiting for since she laid eyes on Diana, Scully lost her composure and  
spat quickly and directly into Diana's over-manicured, plastic face.  
  
Diana, obviously startled, stumbled back, tripping on one of her heels.   
She braced herself against the wall, a knee smashing against the white wall and  
  
tinting her knee a soon-to-be purple and yellow splotch. She lifted her   
head, strands wiped out by the non-supporting hand and stared in disgust at  
  
Scully.  
  
"You react well for a dead woman."  
  
"You . . ." Diana stopped, pushing herself to an erect position, adjusting   
her beige skirt. Her face was twisted red in anger, eyes flashing and  
ready to strike.  
  
Scully's face was set in repose once again though, even through the faint   
strains of Richter's laughter from behind her tickled her senses.  
  
"Once, I believed you did something noble to save Mulder's life. That you   
hadn't rotted to the core yet. Was I wrong even then? Was it all some   
ploy?"  
  
Diana did not respond, her face set icy cold.  
  
Disappointed by Diana's lack of response, but not devastated, Scully spoke   
again, hiding her frustration.  
  
"What did you do with Elspeth?" she demanded.  
  
Diana, sensing she now had the advantage, walked over and peered down at   
Scully again, although this time at a safer distance.  
  
"Don't you know?" she said with mock shock. She was given a stare in  
return. "You don't," she said softly with a surprised laugh. "Amazing--she didn't  
tell you? Not even you?" she conjectured, looking at Richter.  
  
Scully's heart was beating faster and faster. Elspeth, a traitor . . . No,  
it couldn't be possible. She swallowed hard, clenching her fists. She   
would not let this be their end . . .  
  
"We trust her to tell us what she wants us to know when we need to know  
it," Richter said defensively.  
  
"How do you know that you can trust her, though?" was Diana's haughty  
reply. "Can you really trust anyone anymore?"  
  
"Where is she?" Richter pressed, though his body and his voice was laced   
with tension. "What did you do with her? What did you do with Elspeth?"  
  
"How sweet--a lover's demand." Richter reddened, perhaps from anger or   
embarrassment--or even both. He grew silent.  
  
"I knew you were treacherous and a backstabber, Diana," Scully said, "but I  
never thought that you would turn your back against humanity. That you   
would forsake your world for power."  
  
"We do what we need to survive," she said with a bored voice. Then her  
eyes came to focus in on Scully's. "You think that you can live on idealism   
alone? You're a fool then, Dana. Like Mulder was a fool."  
  
"Is."  
  
Diana tilted her head. "Optimistic still? Ah well. This world may not be  
  
much, but at least I will be able to live the rest of my life with some   
assurance of safety and control. You," she shook her head disdainfully,   
"you will be like the others--fighting for some grand cause. It doesn't   
exist! It's futile--can you not come to terms with the colonists? They're  
not just going to go away. They got this far for some reason. What are we  
to them? Nothing, that's what. We are bodies--farms and food for them.   
At least you are. I have something at least--something to cling to."  
  
"And you think we don't?" Scully challenged. "Your comfort is temporary,   
Diana. You are nothing to them, too. And you are nothing to me, or anyone  
else who still even dares to hope a little bit."  
  
"That world is dead, Dana."  
  
"You are as good as dead, Diana. You don't need me to explain to you why,   
either, do you?"  
  
Silence. Diana paced. She twisted her hands uncomfortably.  
  
"I admire you, Dana. I always have. But I have to disagree with you   
still." She spoke these words, but she did so hesitantly. "Dreams are   
nice, but they have no basis in this world. Until you're able to see the   
whole picture, you can't judge me or anyone else who is doing what it takes  
to stay alive."  
  
"And exactly what is it that is giving you the motivation to live, Diana?   
Without any glimmer of hope, what do you have to live for? Power? That's   
an empty feeling, and you know it. If this world is so damned, what gets   
you through the day? Is it something you're afraid of?"  
  
"I see it's impossible for me to try to even get you to begin to understand  
what sort of situation we are in. Go ahead. Live in your world and say   
what you will about how I am leading my life, but you can't change me."  
  
Diana turned her back and headed for the door. She turned for a moment   
before she left. "I'm sorry to think that you'll only understand when you   
die. What a pity."  
  
The door opened, closed, and again Scully and Richter were left in the   
blinding white room.  
  
"What do you want with us?" Scully said through clenched teeth after Diana   
had left. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.  
  
"Dana?"  
  
Scully jumped--if she could jump from where she lay bound. Her eyes   
fluttered opened to see Richter, standing before her, a look of concern in   
his face.  
  
"How did you . . ." she began as he undid the leather straps that held her   
down. She sat up, rubbed her wrists as he undid the fastens on the   
restraints on her legs.  
  
"These are old--and I loosened them up while you were talking to that  
woman. Old acquaintances, I assume."  
  
"You could say that," Scully said dryly as she swung her now-free legs over  
to the side and hopped down to stretch them out.  
  
"We need to get out of here," Richter said, appraising the room. "And find  
Elspeth. I want to know what they're doing with her, and why they took her  
away when we were left together."  
  
"It does seem very strange. Diana seemed to be eluding to something, but   
I'm not going to jump to any . . ."  
  
"You think she might be a spy?" he asked softly.  
  
Scully hesitated. "Not . . .a spy, but something important to them. But I  
don't know. I don't want to be suspicious even though that's what my gut   
tells me to do. We've had enough of that so far, don't you think."  
  
Richter seemed abashed for a moment. "Yes we have," he finally responded   
with resolve. "Too much. Now let's get out of this place. How do you   
suppose we get out of here?"  
  
"A gun would prove very handy right now," Scully mused. "Just shoot the   
locks off the door, but that would cause a lot of noise. Still..."  
  
"If we break off part of these stretchers, maybe we could pick the lock."  
  
Scully was pensive for a moment. Richter was about to speak, ask her what   
was wrong, but she held a hand up, walking to the door. She gripped the   
stainless steel handle and twisted it down. The door clicked open. She   
turned to look at Richter, a curious brow raised in amusement.  
  
"That would also work, I guess," he said wryly as they quietly exited.  
  
"I figured if the straps were old, maybe these facilities aren't the  
highest quality."  
  
"Simplicity is wonderful," he replied as they slid down the  
  
They were halfway to the next door when alarms started sounding and they   
were bathed in a red light that flooded the corridor.  
  
"Oh Christ," Richter swore. "How did they know we got out?"  
  
"No, no," she comforted, "I don't think that's what's going on. Her eyes   
flew around and she saw the source of the light--a fire alarm. "Shit," she   
swore under her breath. "Fire, Richter. We have to get out of here."  
  
They scrambled down the hallway and as they peered through the door they  
saw the shadows of people running out of rooms, throwing things as they ran.   
They waited a moment and then went into the hallway.  
  
"We have to find Elspeth," Richter said as they progressed down the hall.   
Immediately, he ran to the first door and flung it open. Empty. They  
split the hallway, running and throwing doors open as they went, yelling for   
Elspeth. Scully turned to Richter to speak but he had disappeared behind a  
door. She went across the hall and went in to see Elspeth's pale body,   
dressed in a hospital gown, flung carelessly on the ground, a broken rag   
doll.  
  
His face was stricken, and Scully could not help but feel the tug at her   
heart that she had felt so many times when she had found Mulder in  
similarly bad situations. He lifted her gently to his chest, one arm slung   
protectively around her back and one underneath the bend in her knees for   
support. Her head bobbed slightly and finally came to rest on his  
shoulder. The comfort of her shallow breathes against his neck, he could never even  
start to explain to anyone.  
  
Scully lead the way out, holding the door for Richter and Elspeth. The   
moved as fast as they could possibly go up and down the corridors. They   
noted that they could hear a siren that was not within the building going   
off, and followed its sound.  
  
They did not have to struggle for freedom long. A smile laced with relief   
flooded Scully's face as she spied the comfort of a glowing red "exit"  
sign. She pushed against the door and it came open without too much effort, but  
not all was good on planet Earth tonight.  
  
They were welcomed again by the outside world with a gust of black ash   
against a blazing orange skyline. Blue-eyes wide Scully scanned her   
surroundings. Buildings rose above the clouds of smoke like obelisks.   
Like a shockwave, Scully suddenly realized where she was, with only an inkling  
of what was happening, a sickening feeling twisting in her stomach at the   
perversity of how history could repeat itself.  
  
Chicago was burning.  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER  
  



	11. Chapter 10

  
Chapter 10  
  
The sun came up just as it always had. It shined off of the Huron in the  
east and lit the sky in the rosy hues and gradual splendor of eons past.  
The Earth warmed slowly as its fiery fingers spread throughout the land.  
But in a lonely camp on the shores of the great lake, the long faces and  
grim spirit of the camp could not be warmed by the rays of the sun.  
  
Invictus looked up to the rest of the party as he put the last rock over  
Dice's grave. They were crowded round the small pile of rocks they had  
managed to collect with a cross they had put together at the head. The only  
person not immediately present was Alan Shirilla, whom they had tackled  
into submission, who was now tied to a tree back at the camp.   
  
Invictus had spoken over his friend, and stood at the grave in silence a  
moment as the rest of the party turned and slowly made their way back to  
camp. Mulder stood by and waited.   
  
When finally Invictus turned away from his friend, he didn't turn around  
again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Mulder said, as they wound their way through the trees  
following the others. "I don't know what else to say."  
  
Invictus, his face still downtrodden simply said, "I don't think there's  
anything *to* say. Enough people have died already, this one more only adds  
another log to the fire. We have to get that vaccine now, Mulder, if not  
for the millions who are dead already, for Dice. I owe him that much. *We*  
owe him that much."  
  
Mulder nodded and they made their way back into the camp where everyone  
else was silently putting out the fire, and feeding and taking care of the  
horses. Even Shirilla was quiet, moping where sat by the tree, seeming to  
finally come to terms with the fact that his own paranoia and power complex  
had driven him to kill a man. The horses were also silent, sensing the mood  
of the camp, they snickered quietly to each other and gently nosed anyone  
who walked by.  
  
"So," said Cass as she took one of the bridles off of the branch they were  
hanging off of, "what now?"  
  
Mulder sighed. "I don't know. Do you think Plinket will have the boat  
ready yet?"  
  
"I don't think so," she said. "He said he'd have it there by sundown."  
  
"We may not have that long." Everyone looked over to Shirilla who hadn't  
spoken in hours.  
  
Baxter, still irritated with the man, took a step closer to him. "What are  
you talking about, Alan?"  
  
"I'm saying that they're probably going to find us soon. The Island is  
small, and they can cover a lot of ground. I'm saying if Tom doesn't get  
here soon, he may not like what he finds when he *does* get here."   
  
"I'm afraid he's right," Jessica spoke up, "as much as I hate to admit it."  
  
Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Invictus spoke.   
  
"I think so too, but we don't have a choice. I say we saddle up the horses  
just in case we need to make a break for it, and send a person to the shore  
every hour until he gets here."  
  
Everyone agreed to this, and they went about getting the horses ready and  
their stuff together.  
  
Mulder sat down at the edge of the camp when he was finished and ruminated  
to himself.  
  
He cursed his memory, or lack thereof, and concentrated on trying to  
remember until his eyes hurt. Pretty much the last 10 years or so of his  
life were inaccessible. It was almost as if there was a wall up in his mind  
that he could not penetrate that was blocking the memories from his view.  
His photographic memories were there, but someone had put the lens cover  
on.  
  
He leaned his head back against the tree and looked to the sky through the  
canopy of orange, yellow and red. Clear and blue, as it had always been,  
but no longer familiar. It was no longer the sphere that protected the  
world, but a shield that was easily torn, and behind it, untold beings and  
civilizations that had no agenda other than to destroy and conquer. It was  
a terrifying thought-that aside from a weak vaccine that could possibly  
protect them from the effects of only one of their weapons, they were  
absolutely helpless to stop their own annihilation.   
  
Invictus interrupted his macabre musings by plunking down next to him.  
  
"You know," Mulder said to him without looking up, "I don't think so much  
of your ideas."  
  
"Well, Mulder, the farther we get into this. I don't think so much of my  
ideas either. In fact, I didn't think it was physically possible, but this  
both sucks *and* blows."  
  
"Really?" Mulder asked sarcastically. "Which part?"  
  
"I'm trying to decide between the part about having the survival of the  
human race depending solely on us, and the part about riding horses. I  
don't about you, but my ass HURTS."  
  
Mulder chuckled quietly to himself.  
  
"Been sitting here plotting my demise?"  
  
"As good as that sounds, I'm actually just sitting here trying to  
remember," Mulder answered.  
  
"That's funny," Invictus said, "I'm trying to forget."  
  
Mulder simply nodded and closed his eyes again.  
  
"How *did* you get by the memory wipe, if you don't mind sharing your  
professional secrets with the likes of me," Mulder asked.   
  
"If I tell you, I have to kill you," he answered. "But then, we'll  
probably die anyway, so I might as well let the cat out of the bag."   
  
"I appreciate your honesty and optimism," Mulder said sardonically.  
  
"My pleasure," Invictus smiled at him. "It wasn't really all that complex.  
A shot in the dark, actually. I used a thumb tack."  
  
Mulder's confused look spurred him to explain.  
  
"See, I saw on TV one time how this guy beat a polygraph test by putting a  
thumb tack in his shoe and stepping on it the whole time. It throws off  
your nerves and distracts your mind no matter how hard you concentrate on  
the questions. So, I employed the same principle to the memory wipe, and it  
worked. Don't ask me how, but it did."   
  
"Unfortunately," he looked to Mulder, "I think you have to do it at the  
time of the wipe. I don't think it'll work for you. Of course, I could ram  
a needle into your big toe and see if your memories all come flooding back,  
but I don't know if you're willing to risk it."   
  
"I think I'll pass," Mulder said, and crossed his arms at his chest.  
  
"Pity," Invictus answered, then surveyed their outlying camp.  
  
"What do you think we should do with Shirilla," he asked after a few  
moments. "We can't very well leave him tied to that tree."  
  
"Pity," Mulder said in return.  
  
At Invictus' chuckle, he went on. "I suppose we'll have to take him with  
us. We can't leave him with Plinket and the others, I wouldn't wish that on  
anyone."  
  
"True, and I'd just as soon be able to watch him with my own eyes as know  
that he could sabotage the other group and fuck us *all* over."  
  
"You don't suppose he might fall overboard while we're at sea, do you?"  
  
"Well, anything can happen, Mulder," Invictus said, standing up, "and  
usually does."  
  
With that, he winked and walked down the bluff toward the arch to check the  
coast for Plinket.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
The boat finally rounded the coast and cruised silently into Arch Cove just  
before sunset. It first appeared through the massive rock arch that the  
cove was named for with the setting sun behind it as a backdrop. Steven  
Spielberg couldn't have devised a more perfect composition.   
  
But beauty aside, the camp was almost in a panic by the time the boat came.  
  
Most of the party worried that Plinket had been caught and would never make  
it, the horses were getting antsy and spooked, and twice Mulder thought he  
heard the roar of an engine.   
  
By the time they had Mulder, Invictus, Cassidy, John and Alan Shirilla on  
board, and Tom Plinket was getting into the dinghy to depart, the sun had  
been down for some time.   
  
Cassidy sat down in the small capsule and rowed him to shore. The dinghy on  
her boat had a small motor, but they weren't willing to risk getting caught  
by the noise it made.   
  
As he got out of the boat, he assured her that he'd take care of her horses  
and the rest of the group and that they'd meet up in Madison. They weren't  
sure where or when, or even how, but the resistance had always had a strong  
network, and if worse came to worse, they'd use it.   
  
The remaining members of the resistance waited on shore and watched in the  
dim moonlight as Cassidy rowed back to her boat and slowly, silently,  
sailed west.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
The boat was a large one that she'd inherited from her father. A 52 foot  
double-masted Beneteau, that he'd named the Prometheus Unbound. He'd died  
just before colonization had begun and this was the first sail on the  
vessel that Cass would make without him.   
  
Once out of Arch Cove, they had all gathered down below around the  
navigation table, and Cassidy had proceeded to pull out her cache of  
nautical maps. They had set the sails just tight enough to get away from  
the Island by daybreak, but not tight enough to set any specific course.  
They had to pick one first.  
  
"The way I see it," Cassidy said, as she spread out the maps before her,  
the rest of the group crowding around her, "we have two choices."  
  
"We head north and sail along the coast of the U.P. until we hit Wisconsin,  
from there, we travel by land down to Madison. Or, we head southwest right  
now, hit Beaver Island for supplies, then North and South Fox Island, then  
the Manitou Islands, and cross Lake Michigan in one shot. The first option  
is a lot safer, but it will take a lot longer. The second should get us  
there much faster, but is highly dangerous. Especially with an  
inexperienced crew this time of year."  
  
She looked up at the rest of the men and looked at each one in turn. "What  
do you guys want to do?"  
  
"I say we go for the U.P.," Alan mumbled quietly. He knew no one really  
wanted to hear his opinion, but he voiced it anyway. His consideration no  
longer carried any weight.  
  
Much to his surprise, they looked at him and nodded.  
  
Invictus spoke next.   
  
"I can see the points of both. And I know how rough these waters can get,  
especially this time of year. It's going to be a tough trip either way, but  
the clock is running."  
  
"I agree," Baxter piped in, "about time, I mean. If we don't get there soon  
and *do* something, we, and a lot of other people are going to be dead no  
matter what. I say we go for the fastest way and just pray we get there in  
time. Cass, you and I know boats. They'll catch on quickly. I say we head  
for the Islands and head for them now."  
  
At that point, everyone looked to Mulder.  
  
"You're looking to a man who has no memory and who at this moment is  
feeling slightly sea sick to make your decision for you?"  
  
They continued to look at him.  
  
"Yes," Cass finally said. "The memories may be absent, Mulder, but the  
instinct's still there. What do you think we should do?"  
  
"I agree with John," he finally submitted. "I say we take the most direct  
route. The sooner I'm off this boat, the better."  
  
"Then it's settled. I'll plot the course, then John and I can get us going.  
Why don't you guys try to get some sleep."  
  
She pointed in the direction of the aft bunks and sat down to work. "The  
head is on your left," she said as afterthought.  
  
"The what?" Mulder asked as he made his way astern.  
  
"The john," she said, looking up from her map. "It's right there."   
  
The three men nodded and settled in for the night. The gentle rocking of  
the boat had them asleep almost before they could lay down.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Days past, and they sailed on without too much trouble.   
  
It was near sunset on their third day when they sailed past the second  
island they would visit. The wind had remained strong and steady and  
propelled them at a speed that gave them a small amount of comfort. Every  
island they had yet visited had been abandoned, and when they saw no sign  
of pursuit, they began to relax.   
  
Cass joined Mulder on the fore deck and watched out over the water with him  
silently. Dark blue and gray clouds had started to form on the horizon, and  
she eyed them warily.  
  
"Looks like a storm might be moving in," she said. "I think we'd better  
head right for South Fox Island and see if we can harbor there tonight.  
Sailing on the Great Lakes in November isn't the safest thing anyone's ever  
done."  
  
They had considered skipping over the small island and on toward the  
Manitou Islands, as they had just left North Fox Island the day before. She  
said this more to herself than to Mulder who basically did what they told  
him to. Which generally encompassed ducking when they came about, and  
occasionally cranking the winch. Mostly, he just tried to stay out of  
everyone else's way. Only Alan Shirilla seemed to be as much of a layman as  
he, which surprised Mulder for a man who had grown up on a small island.  
But then, Mulder mused, he himself had grown up on an island and knew even  
less about all things nautical.  
  
She headed back for the stern and left Mulder watching out over the water.  
He'd spent the past days in a constant state of concentration, and he'd  
finally given up on the prospect of ever remembering what he'd lost.   
  
He accepted it and moved on. He had no other choice.  
  
A gust of strong wind hit him from behind without warning and he fell  
forward, catching himself on the sail cables in front of him. A large swell  
followed the wind and slammed into the side of the boat, pitching the  
vessel off to the port side and causing Mulder to lurch forward again. He  
grabbed the safety wires along the starboard side of the boat and made his  
way down to the cabin.   
  
The clouds rushed in over the boat in force and the wind blew harder. The  
surf picked up in intensity as well and surged around them. Cass was on her  
way up onto the deck when Mulder reached the cabin door.   
  
"Get down below," she shouted above the building howling of the wind, "and  
wake up John if he isn't already and tell him to get the hell up here!  
Secure the cabinets below and get out the life jackets!"  
  
Mulder nodded and allowed her to pass before he nearly slid down the few  
stairs and into the cabin. John Baxter was stumbling out of the bunks in  
the bow when Mulder looked up.  
  
"Squall?" he asked. Mulder nodded and John swore in a low tone as he  
brushed by Mulder and up onto deck.   
  
Invictus and Alan were battening down the stern ports and cabinets so  
Mulder went for the life preservers. He grabbed one and slipped it on then  
went astern and threw two at the other two men as he braced himself against  
the walls around him for balance. The boat pitched suddenly to the  
starboard and Mulder fell hard on his knee.   
  
He cussed to himself as he made his way for the stairs. He threw the two  
remaining preservers over his arm and stumbled up onto deck. Cass was at  
the helm, struggling with the wheel as the rain began to pour down on the  
Prometheus Unbound unabashedly. Mulder stumbled to her and handed her a  
life vest. She threw it on, and as he made to grab the wheel to help her,  
she shook her head violently and pointed toward the bow.  
  
He followed her gaze and saw John struggling with a loose line that had  
whipped free. He was struggling to pull down the jib, but the line had  
gotten caught high up in the sail and he had to free it before the sail  
would come down. The wind gusts caught on the still raised sail and pitched  
the vessel violently. Mulder saw it and immediately started to make his way  
up to help John.   
  
He was halfway there when lightning ripped through the sky above them,  
immediately followed by a loud clap of thunder. The blinding flash of light  
dazed Mulder momentarily and he fell to the deck. Seconds later, shaking  
his head to clear it, he got up and started for John again.   
  
He stumbled and slipped on the wet deck and he grabbed at the mainsail's  
boom to keep his balance. He had regained his balance for not a second when  
images started flashing in front of his eyes. Fleeting and fast, they  
blinded him. He looped his arm around the swinging boom and grabbed at his  
skull. Again, lightening ripped across the sky and suddenly, in a torrent,  
the images poured out before his eyes.  
  
Flashes of moments suspended in time that were permanently etched, but  
recently forgotten, broke loose from his mind. His apartment, his mother in  
a hospital bed, cases of one kind or another flashed in his mind in a  
flood.   
  
Fox Mulder was remembering.  
  
But one memory hit resonance as it flashed in his mind in one form or  
another. Bent over an autopsy bay, reaching across a diner table to steal  
his food, gun pointed at his chest, he saw her over and over until the  
images overwhelmed him and he fell to the deck. Bent over limply on the  
wood and fiberglass, images still streaming before his eyes, he threw his  
head back, chest exposed to the sky and screamed above the crash of  
thunder.  
  
"SCUUHLLY!" He yelled above the roar of thunder, the whoosh of rain, the  
pounding of surf.   
  
His arms flailed out for the life lines along the deck as he slid closer to  
the edge. He was helpless to all but the memories returning. He tried to  
stand, but could not, and another wave rushed over the side of the boat  
filling his mouth and nose with cold, fresh water.   
  
He coughed and held his head in one hand, his other on the lines. The  
images started to slow, and in between them, he could see flashes of the  
boat and surf before him.   
  
Another image of Scully flashed before him, soft and radiant in the warm  
glow of lights in her apartment, and his chest ached with the pain of  
heartache and the sting of the cold, pelting rain.   
  
Another image of Scully, and another, too close together for him to process  
the image of the huge wave crashing over the side of the ship, sweeping him  
over the edge and into the cold, dark, raging waters of Lake Michigan.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Scully and Richter, with Elspeth cradled in his arms, fell back against the  
wall of the building from which they had just escaped.  
  
"Fuck!" Richter yelled. "How long were we held in there? It's snowing!"  
  
"I can see that!" Scully shouted back in retort.  
  
"Wasn't it just October?" Richter began a string of curses.  
  
"Calm down. We're in the Midwest. The weather here is always   
unpredictable. We couldn't have been in there more than a week . . ." she   
trailed off. In actuality, she had no idea how long they had lain,   
unconscious inside the lab that burned behind them, but she wasn't about to  
look behind. They had to push forward.  
  
Though it was snowing, the roar of the flames from the inferno around them   
set off waves of heat that brought on the feeling of a mild summer. Scully  
involuntarily shivered contrary to the warmth that radiated from the  
burning city. She threw a glance at Richter who seemed just as perplexed as she   
was, if not more.  
  
"I'm not sure if I want to know what caused this," he said plaintively,   
redistributing Elspeth's weight in his arms. "I have my suspicions though,"  
he continued, and then returned his attentions to the rag doll of a woman   
who lay in his arms.  
  
"We have to go somewhere," Scully said more to herself than anything. "We   
need to keep pushing and get to Wisconsin while we still may have a chance   
to," she hesitated and almost laughed at the how absurd the phrase seemed  
to her, "to save the world."  
  
She soon recomposed herself though, and they began the cautious walk out of  
the fenced-in compound.  
  
"Let's hope their perimeter security is as lax as their internal security,"  
  
Richter mused as they approached the barb wired, and possibly electrified   
fence.  
  
"No need to worry about an electrified fence. Door's open," Scully said   
lamely to Richter as they rounded a corner. She shook her head though, no   
with relief, but with the knowledge that beyond this gate there still lay   
thousands of barriers, hundreds of detours, and a countless amount of pain   
to still come. But she retracted some of her bitterness and an ounce of  
the weariness. Though the road ahead was long, there was still hope, and they   
would have to cling to that if they wanted to have a chance at doing   
anything.  
  
"Let's get somewhere warm--hopefully somewhere with food and, God, some  
warm clothing," Scully continued tersely. "Let's move fast. I want to check up  
on Elspeth as soon as possible." She glanced back. Elspeth was not  
looking good, but she kept it to herself. There was no reason to alarm Richter.   
They all had enough on their minds right now, and adding to his burden  
would only weaken him more, and slow them down on an already long journey.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
She had not realized how far Colonization had stretched its merciless arm.   
Chicago, once bustling and always alive with life and light, was now akin  
to a ghost town. Snow had been falling, but even the pure whiteness of the   
landscape could not hide the hideous scarring that had already been done.   
Now with the raging flames that engulfed the skyline, the view only   
worsened. Snow melted and rivers of soot flooded the streets. Worst of   
all, ashes filled the sky and then returned to earth in blackened tears.   
It was beyond sorrowful, and it took almost all of what was left of Scully's   
strength, not to break down and cry in despair. But she knew she would not  
show weakness now. With Elspeth incapacitated and Richter drained and   
zombie-like, she was thrust into the lead. She was to be the mind and body  
behind their mission. She was to be their logic, their reason; their  
pillar of strength. Through all the bleakness, she smiled to herself. She could   
do this--she had no choice in the matter--but she could do this. She had   
done it before, for someone else . . .  
  
"Dana?"  
  
She turned and blinked the snowflakes from her eyes. Richter pressed   
Elspeth tighter to his chest.  
  
"We really need to rest, Dana. I don't think," he glanced down, "I don't   
know how much longer we can just keep walking in this weather, especially   
with her in this condition. And it's not helping us either."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry, but," she said, waving a hand at the crumpled remains  
of once mighty buildings, "we'll stop soon. Trust me."  
  
Richter sighed, something that seemed to come from his toes and out the   
pursed lips. "I trust you." Scully turned, startled by his sudden   
admission. "I'm just worried."  
  
She nodded, but she walked now, a bit astounded. There obviously had been   
problems in their small knit group. And obviously some ambivalent emotions  
rearing their heads, especially between Richter and Elspeth, but she had   
felt that their situation had been pushing them all closer together.   
Still, the admittance of his trust seemed akin to someone else vowing a life debt.  
  
Everything seemed to change and shift quickly these days. She peered   
through the snow and motioned Richter to come over. Why she still seemed   
surprise by the speed of things, she didn't know.  
  
She pointed to a dark spot that stood out against the falling snow and ash.  
  
"Shelter."  
  
He turned to her and smiled.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
It was a old house, a throwback from the Depression, in the middle of  
nowhere. Somehow the effects of the assault on Chicago had not touched it.   
It stood next to rubble and remnants of damage, but the important thing   
was that it stood.  
  
Elspeth was placed on a couch and Richter went in search of blankets   
immediately. Scully walked into the kitchen in search of food. She let no  
reaction hit her as she entered and noted the chaos imprinted against each   
tile on the floor and each cabinet flung open wide. It was getting dark   
outside but a few glimmers of light from sun and fire slanted their way  
into the blinds that drooped from each window. She side-stepped a fallen pot  
and made her way towards a cabinet. Spying a few items, she pulled them out,   
turning the cool metal tins in her hands. Quietly, she rummaged through  
the rest of the kitchen but bypassing the refrigerator. This area had been  
long without electricity. They had battled quite enough unseemingly things so   
far, another adventure into the gleaming-white icebox would be one she'd   
rather avoid. Finding six cans of food overall--creamed corn to imitation   
ham--Scully placed them onto the wooden kitchen table and sat down, leaning  
back tiredly against a wicker-backed chair.  
  
How long days seemed, she thought. And how far the past seemed behind  
them. Places and memories of seasons past and of people lost. She heaved a   
sigh, one that seemed to be the compilation of all her sighs ever  
repressed. Mulder, she mouthed, lost in thought. How long since she had last seen   
him? How long had she last felt his nearness and his earnest affection?   
She could almost feel the stubble on his face and the smile that would  
curve underneath her hands, though this was something she had never dared to do  
in real life. It was real because she could imagine it through all this   
despair. "Scully," he would say, beaming with a sexual energy and  
mischief, "Scully . . ."  
  
"Dana?"  
  
Her head bobbed forward and her eyes flitted open. Dreams, she thought   
sadly. More dreams clouding her head. Richter peered through the doorway,  
his body a dark shape before her eyes. She mumbled incoherently.  
  
"Any luck?"  
  
She nodded and stood up, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs that had   
formed in her mind. She pushed the cans together and left them on the   
table. "Elspeth?" she asked without expecting an answer. They walked  
into the living room and Scully began to tend to her patient.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Elspeth, fortunately, was amazingly resilient.  
  
"Are you my Prince Charming?" she asked quietly, blinking up into Scully's   
concerned face. Her response made her chuckle.  
  
"No," she whispered, "but he's right over here," she said, nodding her head  
slightly to where Richter sat slumped and sleeping in an armchair.  
  
"Ahh, good," Elspeth replied contented. "Make sure he doesn't turn into a   
frog." She then closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Scully stood  
up and piled on another blanket on top of Elspeth, watching her burrow her  
head of dark hair beneath the warm fleece sheets.  
  
What a peaceful face, Scully thought, her eyes darkening some. She bit her  
lip. They would still have to question Elspeth about what had happened.   
Diana Fowley's words echoed in her mind. "You mean you don't know yet . .  
. ?" She shuddered involuntarily and swallowed hard. She wanted so much to   
trust these two. Right now, it was her second biggest wish. Right after   
the wish to see again the face of the only other person she had trusted   
before now.  
  
Soup. The thought sprang to her head like a bolt of lightening as she   
clutched her growling stomach. She recalled the cans of tomato soup still   
in the kitchen, but the electric stove also came to mind. A knife could   
easily puncture and open the can, but the prospect of cold and salty soup   
hit her worse than the hunger.  
  
Richter stirred from sleep. "Dana? I'm sorry," he began, wiping the sleep  
from his eyes. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep . . ."  
  
"You need your rest," she simply stated.  
  
"So do you."  
  
Grimly, she smiled. "We also need food, and that's the first thing on my   
mind right now."  
  
He forced himself out of the comfortable chair, wobbling, his legs  
unsteady. "Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
"No," she began, but her eyes wandered over to the fireplace she had not   
seen before. "Damn," she whispered to herself, glad at their good luck.   
"Actually, yes. Can you start a fire?"  
  
"Yes, and," he continued pulling something from the coffee table. "The Boy  
Scouts taught me well. That and I got these matches."  
  
"Works for me. Break up some chairs or find some logs--we need a fire."  
  
"What's for dinner?" Elspeth murmured, still half-asleep. She rolled over,  
oblivious again to her surroundings.  
  
"Tomato soup, but we need some water."  
  
"Nothing's working," Richter frowned. "Electricity's dead. Water and   
plumbing, gone." He looked around. Suddenly, his face brightened. "Snow."  
  
"Ash," Scully corrected sadly, but she thought again. "Icicles . . . They   
should be pure still!"  
  
"If you want to get them, I'll start the fire."  
  
"Be right back." Scully walked down the hallway and pulled open a closest   
that was built into the wall. She pulled out a Chicago Bears winter coat   
and pulled it over her head. Marching outside, she moved around the porch   
and finally, after jumping a few times, resigned herself to grabbing a  
chair from inside to reach the icicles that hung like pure, clear fangs from the   
awning. She laid each down on the railing as though they were precious   
diamonds. Looking at her good work, she began to gather them into her arms  
when she heard the cries for help. She froze. The cries were nearby, but   
she was wary and very suspicious. She couldn't help it. Grabbing a snow   
shovel that sat abandoned on the porch, she listened for the cries between   
the crunching of snow beneath her feet.  
  
The screams for help seemed to be coming from pile of rubble down the  
block.  
  
"Who's there?" Scully shot out into the bleak, cold air.  
  
"Help me! I'm over here!" The cries grew stronger, new hope instilled in   
each syllable. "Underneath this debris."  
  
She could not leave a person here to die, she thought as she approached the  
  
female voice that yelled. But the thought that it was a trap remained   
pinned to her mind as surely as that woman could be laying pinned beneath   
the twisted metal beams.  
  
"I'm coming," Scully called out calmly. There seemed to be a sudden gasp, a   
pause coming from the direction of the yells. Scully felt herself chilled.  
  
She could not determine if it was the wind or something else that made her   
feel this way.  
  
As she turned the corner, there indeed lay a trapped figure in the shadows.  
  
"Agent Scully!" the person cried, half excited, half surprised. "Please!   
Help me out!" It almost was a sob, and Scully suddenly could not split her  
ambivalent feelings. It would be so easy for her to just walk away.  
  
"Please," the voice called out again, this time almost pleading.  
  
Scully resigned herself. She would not stoop to that level. She was still  
human, after all.  
  
"Lay still," she said coolly, crouching down. "I'll get you out in just a   
little bit, Diana."  
  
  
  
END CHAPTER 


	12. Chapter 11

**********************************  
"Manifest Destiny" Part 11  
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin' Mickeys  
**********************************  
  
Mulder awoke slowly. He brought his hands to eyes, trying to wipe the sleep  
out of them. He was a little dizzy, and hesitated to open them.   
  
"Hey, he's waking up," he heard a male voice say distantly.   
  
Immediately, he felt nauseous, rolled over and vomited.   
  
"Oh great."   
  
This time, the voice was much more clear, and he recognized it as belonging  
to John Baxter.   
  
He hazarded attempt at opening his eyes, and he did so.   
  
The nausea began to lift, and he blinked and looked around him.   
  
He was in one of the staterooms on the Prometheus Unbound, and Baxter was  
sitting near him on another bunk, nautical maps strewn about him. He was  
looking with disgust at the floor that Mulder had just soiled, and then  
glanced up at Mulder.  
  
"Sorry," Mulder apologized.  
  
"That's alright," he said, though he didn't sound much like he meant it,  
"we're just glad to see you conscious. Feel better?"  
  
Mulder nodded.  
  
"Do you know how long you've been out?"  
  
Mulder shook his head.  
  
"About three days."  
  
"Three days?" Mulder asked, surprised.  
  
"Yeah," John said, "do you remember what happened?"  
  
He thought about the storm, about bringing the life vests up from the  
cabin, and then succumbing to the visions from his past while prone on the  
deck.   
  
"Some of it. What happened?"  
  
"That's what we were going to ask you," John said, "you were coming up on  
the deck to help me loose the sail in the storm, and the next thing we  
know, you're laying there, barely hanging on, and then, whoosh, you were  
overboard. What happened to you? Cass said she was watching and that  
nothing hit you, you just suddenly collapsed."  
  
"I…" Mulder started, looking up and into John Baxter's eyes, "I remembered.  
Everything. I don't know how, or why, but it all just hit me."  
  
"You're kidding…" John said, a little unbelieving.  
  
"No," Mulder answered him, sitting up in the bunk, "I'm not. What happened  
when I went over?"  
  
John stared at him for a moment, then shook himself and spoke up.  
  
"Well, I saw you go in, and I dove in after you. We're lucky you were  
wearing a life vest, or we'd both be dead. Cass managed to get us into the  
boat, and at that point you were unconscious. I think you know the rest."  
  
Mulder nodded and looked down at his bare chest. He rubbed at his beard and  
looked about the cabin. Finally, he spotted his clothes, folded on another  
bunk. He rose and began to dress, pulling the jeans on gingerly, his right  
hand still hurting a little from his stint on the bridge, and stepped aside  
as John walked into the cabin after retrieving some paper towels. By the  
time he'd finished dressing and was pulling on his shoulder holster, Baxter  
had finished cleaning up his mess.  
  
John threw the towels into a trash bag and headed for the door, turning for  
Mulder.  
  
"Come on," he said, "let's go let everybody see you and tell them the good  
news."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"So you remember everything?" Invictus asked, as they all stood around the  
deck, the sky a sunny one, in deep contrast to the way it looked the last  
time Mulder had seen it.   
  
Mulder nodded.  
  
"Even me?"  
  
Mulder thought back to the day he'd first seen Invictus.   
  
He was standing on the side street near the Hard Rock Café in downtown DC,  
not far from the Hoover building. Invictus approached, and Mulder turned  
before he reached him, and headed down the next alleyway.  
  
Invictus rounded the corner and paused.  
  
"Agent Mulder," he said, nodding.  
  
"McCloud," Mulder nodded back.  
  
"Where's your partner?" Invictus had asked him.  
  
Mulder felt the conflicting emotions he'd felt then once again, and again  
regretted not telling Scully where he'd gone.   
  
At that point, the van had pulled into the alley, blocking their exit, and  
two men dressed in waitstaff uniforms from the Hard Rock stepped out of the  
building behind them, and they were trapped.  
  
Mulder shook his head to clear it, and looked to Invictus.  
  
"Yeah," he said, "I remember you."  
  
Invictus took in Mulder's pained expression and pulled him to the side as  
the others set back to working on the boat.  
  
"What's the matter?" He asked him.  
  
Mulder looked out over the water, casting his eyes in the full 360 degrees  
around the boat. There was no land in sight. Inside, he felt just as lost.   
  
He found Invictus' eyes again, and he shook his head.  
  
"It's nothing," he mumbled.  
  
"Your partner?" Invictus asked him honestly.  
  
Mulder sighed and nodded.   
  
Invictus took a moment standing beside Mulder then asked, "So why are you  
remembering? Why now?"  
  
"That," Mulder said, "is the one thing I can't figure out."  
  
"So you were up on the deck…"   
  
"And the storm broke, lightning flashed, and there it was."  
  
"The lightning…" Invictus said quietly to himself.  
  
"What?" Mulder asked.  
  
"The lightning," Invictus repeated, louder this time. "Were you looking  
right at it?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Maybe that's it then," Invictus said.  
  
"What's it? What do you mean?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Well, you know the principles behind epilepsy seizures? How, like, a  
strobe light can induce them?"  
  
Mulder nodded.  
  
"Maybe it set something off in your head like that. Although, I can't  
really see how or why for sure…"  
  
Mulder got a strange look on his face and bit the inside of his cheek.  
  
"What?" Asked Invictus when he hazarded a look at him.  
  
"Well, I don't really remember all that well, but, according to my mother,  
I suffered from epilepsy seizures until I was twelve."  
  
Invictus stared blankly at him for a moment and then shifted on his feet.  
  
"I guess that explains that, then."   
  
The two men stood on the gently swaying deck for five minutes more in  
silence, then made their way back down toward the galley.  
  
When they arrived in the main stateroom, Cassidy had the electronics board  
open and was arguing with Alan Shirilla.  
  
They didn't hear or see the two men come in and continued quibbling for a  
moment while Mulder and Invictus watched on in silence.  
  
Finally, Mulder broke in.  
  
"What seems to be the problem, here?" He asked.   
  
Cassidy stopped her rant mid-sentence, glared at Alan a moment before she  
composed herself and turned to the two men.  
  
"The storm threw us off of our course, and lightning hit the ship, which  
knocked most of the electronics either completely off, or it screwed them  
up something fierce. I'm trying to tell Alan here that we're headed in the  
right direction, but he maintains his stance that I don't know how to read  
a compass."   
  
"That's not," Alan began, then paused a moment, trying to regain his own  
composure, "that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that we've been out  
here at sea forever. We should be there by now. I think we're going in  
circles."  
  
"And *I* was saying," Cass went on, "that the last time I checked, my  
compass still worked."  
  
"I just proposed the idea that maybe the aliens might have the technology  
to screw that up."  
  
"They don't have the power to demagnetize the entire *planet* Alan," Cass  
said, beginning to show her irritation with the man once more.   
  
Alan opened his mouth to protest, but Mulder interrupted.  
  
"That's," he started, "pretty unlikely."  
  
Alan shot him a dirty look, but remained silent.  
  
"What about GPS?" Mulder continued.  
  
Cass shook her head but kept her eyes on the maps in front of her.  
  
"The satellites stopped working long ago."  
  
Invictus stepped forward to take a look at the instrument and electronics  
panel when John Baxter came all but sliding down the stairs, excitedly.  
  
"Land!" He shouted a bit loudly in the crowded stateroom, "I saw land up  
there. We made it."   
  
The group couldn't scramble to the deck fast enough.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Diana's face was molded into a grimace that accentuated the care-worn lines   
on her face. Scully tried to avoid looking at her as she crouched over to   
remove the heavy beams and boards that were pinning her to the ground, but   
could not avoid seeing the small trickle of blood by her mouth, guessing   
that Diana had bit her lip in an attempt to hid her scream of pain as Scully   
dragged a steel sheet off of her torso.  
  
"I'm sorry this is hurting," she said with something akin to pity in her   
voice.  
  
Diana's breaths came out fast but shallow. Her face was almost as pale as   
the blanket of snow she lay on. "It's not your fault," she rasped as Scully   
pulled hard at a beam.  
  
After some struggle with said beam, Scully told Diana, "I'm going to get   
some help," as she wiped the sweat from her brow. A hand suddenly caught   
her elbow and Scully stared down in disbelief at the strength of the grip.  
  
"Please don't leave me, Dana. I'm almost free. Please . . . " Tears were   
teetering on the edge but did not spill over. "I don't want to be left here   
alone."  
  
Scully tightened her mouth, but she nodded in compliance to Diana's request.   
Her mind though was abuzz. Why was Diana afraid? Was there something out   
there, roaming unchecked . . . ? She shuddered as she gave one last great   
pull and felt the heavy wooden beam groan unhappily at being moved. Scully   
herself felt a twinge of dissatisfaction at having to free Diana, especially   
after all she had done to them, but she was not a cruel woman, even if she   
had a reason to be. She would not let that change. If she found Mulder   
again, she would return to him the same woman and start back where they had   
left off, if they could say they had actually left off *somewhere*.  
  
"Can you walk?" Her voice was chilly as her eyes.  
  
"I think I just need a little support." She looked up at Scully, her eyes   
wide and droopy like a puppy dog. Scully sighed, not completely in   
irritation but more so in pity.  
  
"Here." She bent down and Diana sat up, moaning in considerable pain and   
wrapped one arm around Scully's shoulder. "Lean on me."  
  
"I don't have much of a choice. You're much shorter than I am." Diana   
smiled at her attempt at humor. Scully let it pass and together they   
struggled through drifts of snow and years of animosity toward the house   
where tension, anger, and the truth would undoubtedly reveal itself as it   
welcomed them back.  
  
Home sweet home, she thought.  
  
XxXxXxXxXx  
  
She could read nothing and everything in their eyes when she entered,   
dragging Diana behind her. She made no pretense, made no effort to explain   
then, and took Diana upstairs to be deposited into a room. On their way up   
Diana made no move to hide her extreme pain. She clutched at her chest,   
almost sobbing as she jerked and wobbled up the stairs. She was having a   
very hard time breathing. Scully marveled that she had made it this far.  
  
Though she had no equipment and had not looked Diana carefully over, Scully   
sensed that time was running out for the once tenacious Agent   
Fowley--traitor to the human race, she added as a side-thought.  
  
Diana moaned mournfully as she laid down, and dropped off to sleep not soon   
after Scully left the room to face Richter and Elspeth.  
  
Richter stood at the bottom of the staircase when she descended. His face   
looked impassive, but she knew it was anything but that. He opened his   
mouth to speak, but she raised a hand and he stopped. Brushing past him,   
she walked into the living room where Elspeth sat, face turned to the window   
outside. Richter stopped in the archway of the room and leaned up against   
the curve of the wall.  
  
"No food?" she inquired looking at the open soup can and the fire.  
  
"No water," Richter said flatly. "You went out for the icicles and   
disappeared."  
  
"Feel free to hide your contempt for me," Scully snapped.  
  
"We were more worried about what had happened to you. We were talking about   
going out to find you when you came back in . . ." Elspeth trailed off.  
  
"With her," Richter finished, the sneer of the early days returning.  
  
"Get off your high horse and stop assuming everything!" Scully yelled,   
knocking her chair over as she stood. "Do you even consider why I brought   
her here?" Her face grew red, but not from the heat of the fire that glowed   
behind her.  
  
"I'm wondering why you didn't leave her out there to die."  
  
"Because I'm not you."  
  
That shut him up, and he turned away, abashed.  
  
"I'm sick of this fighting, and this mistrust! How long have we been   
together? We have been through so much, but still this bickering!" She   
glowered at Richter. "Try to learn to ask questions before you pass   
judgment!"  
  
"We have been together a while," he began again, the anger rising once more,   
"but we still know so little about each other." He glanced quickly, and   
sadly, over to Elspeth who seemed to be lost in thought. "And if it only   
were so easy, Dana. There isn't time to ask questions, and you know why?   
Because people lie, and sometimes when you take too much time for courtsey,   
you find yourself lying dead in your own blood."  
  
"Is there so little trust in your heart for me? For Elspeth? Do you think   
that we're conspiring against you?" Her voice was much softer now, the   
anger burned out.  
  
"Didn't your friend Mulder believe that everything was a conspiracy?" She   
froze at his inhuman tone, but she recovered.  
  
"Maybe, but I trusted him, and he trusted me, and he did not let his anger   
and prejudices cloud his mind."  
  
He paced, looking back at her, and then at Elspeth.  
  
Scully's voice changed "She's dying, Richter. It won't be long."  
  
"Then why didn't you leave her?"  
  
"Because . . . . There are things we still don't know or understand. Maybe   
she can give us the answers."  
  
"She could just as easily lie to us."  
  
"But why? She's dying." They both turned to look . Elspeth spoke now.   
"Maybe telling us what we want to know will clear her conscious. She can   
die knowing that she did something good, regardless of what she was before."   
She turned away again, pulling her blanket up closer to her chin. "What   
has she left to lose?"  
  
XxXxXxXxXx  
  
"Are you here to listen to my confession?"  
  
Scully placed a tray of warm soup on the night stand adjacent to Diana's   
bed.  
  
"If you like, but I'm just here to bring you some food."  
  
"I can feed myself."  
  
"I had no intention of feeding you."  
  
"You really don't like me, do you?"  
  
Scully pulled out a chair from a nearby desk and moved it towards the bed.   
She sat down, patience and calm coloring her demeanor.  
  
"It really doesn't matter if I like you or not, does it? It didn't seem to   
before."  
  
"What if I said I was sorry?"  
  
"You would actually have to be sincere for me to care, Diana. You'll get no   
reaction otherwise." Scully pulled distractedly at a tiny ball of lint that   
had gathered on the sweatshirt she was wearing.  
  
"That was a low-blow," Diana said, hurt.  
  
"Yes it was, but it's true, isn't it?" she replied flatly.  
  
Diana changed the subject, speaking not with irritation, but more of a   
resignation in her voice. "I'm dying, aren't I?"  
  
Scully almost softened with pity. "Yes," she said quietly. "I'm not going   
to lie to you." Diana gulped hard, and her hands shook. However, Scully   
continued. "A couple of your ribs are crushed, and it doesn't take x-rays   
and tests to see that you are bleeding internally." She motioned to the   
area above Diana's stomach. "I think two of your floating ribs have broken   
and collapsed in on your abdominal cavity, likely puncturing some organs   
there." Suddenly, she stopped, realizing that her cold analysis was not   
going to make Diana's inevitable death any more comfortable. "I'm sorry   
that there's nothing I can do to help." She spread her hands out, palms up,   
helplessly. "I have nothing to make it better, and nothing to make the pain   
go away." Diana nodded as she continued. "I'll try to make you as   
comfortable as possible . . ."  
  
"Before I die," Diana finished tonelessly. A tear trickled down her cheek,   
and more came following after it. Yet she did not sob. It was like rain   
on a sunny day--odd and out of place. As the flow of tears began to stop,   
Diana tried to straighten herself in bed with more dignity. The haughty   
face also seemed to return, much to Scully's disgust and dismay.  
  
"We're two women who understand each other," Diana said out of the blue.  
  
"No, I really don't think we are, Diana," Scully returned sharply. "I   
really don't understand why you do what you do. That's why I'm here. I   
need you to answer some questions for me."  
  
Diana ignored her and continued. "We are two women who understand each   
other," she asserted, "but you're afraid to admit it."  
  
"Admit what?" Scully asked agitated.  
  
"Him."  
  
Scully froze. "What?" Almost a whisper.  
  
"We both loved him. We still do." Diana sounded smug, but Scully did not   
look at her face.  
  
Love, not *loved*, Scully thought despairingly. And though not willing to   
verbalize it, Scully could not control the compulsion to mouth the words,   
and Diana saw this and smiled.  
  
"You bring this up, why?" Scully asked in a more controlled voice.  
  
"I just want you to realize that though we are different, in some ways we   
are alike. I'm not all bad, Dana. I still have love and compassion in me,   
no matter how dead inside you think I am."  
  
"I'm not here to be your judge, Diana. God has that right, not me. I'm   
just here to question you."  
  
"Why should I cooperate?" Diana began to cough, grabbing for a tissue from   
the nightstand. A small red stain appeared to blossom on the fragile sheet   
of paper.  
  
"You don't have to cooperate," Scully shrugged, "but if your deeds lie on   
your conscience at all, maybe this is how you can die with a clean slate.   
Unmake the harm you have done. You're not a bad person, Diana," Scully   
continued. "You've just been misguided."  
  
Diana seemed to consider it and then looking up as she pulled away the   
blood-stained tissue, she said, "What do you want to know?"  
  
Scully took a deep breath and leaned forward in her chair. "Tell me why we   
have been chased across half the country."  
  
"You still don't know?" she muttered with a shake of her head. "Your friend   
Elspeth is who they want. She hasn't told you what she is yet?"  
  
Scully felt a twinge of pain hit her broadside. "No," she said hoarsely.   
"She's revealed only so much, but I trust her."  
  
"No reason why you shouldn't," Diana said matter-of-factly. "Don't worry,   
she's not a traitor, but I am really surprised still that she hasn't told   
you anything about what she is." Diana leaned forward like a sixth-grader   
with a pressing secret to tell. "She's a hybrid. Full-blown, full-blooded,   
made in America hybrid."  
  
Scully leaned back, puzzled. "Well that's a surprise, but why should it   
matter . . ."  
  
"Because she's the link. You must have heard about the slaughter at   
Antioch? Oh you must--your man down there was one of the ringleaders . . .   
those people, they weren't hybrids, you know. Most of them were clones.   
The others, just some very unlucky men and women."  
  
"That's horrible!" Scully cried, covering her mouth quickly. "They died   
without purpose. . . Why?"  
  
"Those fools didn't know anything!"  
  
"Why is she so key? What makes her worth the slaughter of all those   
innocent lives?"  
  
Diana hesitated and coughed. "I honestly don't know why they want her so   
much. My job was to find her and deliver her--alive. You and your friend   
were lucky that I recognized you, or else you would've burned in that   
ditch."  
  
"Should I be thankful for that?" Scully said acidly, not at all   
appreciating Diana's patronizing tone.  
  
"Sorry." Diana suddenly lurched forward and began spasming and coughing.   
Scully leaned forward and supported her.  
  
"I also need to know--is the vaccine really in Madison?"  
  
"Yes." Another cough. "You're headed there, aren't you?"  
  
"No where else to go. But tell me, why Wisconsin?"  
  
"Why not Wisconsin? They used the facilities at the university to produce   
the vaccine, I'm assuming."  
  
"They? Who are They?"  
  
Diana broke out into another spasm of coughs as her condition was worsening   
almost by the minute. "You tell me," she rasped. "I don't know, and I'm   
damn certain I'm not going to be around to find out."  
  
"What are the colonists planning?"  
  
"They're colonists--what else do you think they're going to do?" The next   
set of racking coughs disabled her as Diana Fowley broke into uncontrollable   
sobs of pain. "I can't, I can't answer anymore. Please let me rest."  
  
Scully nodded. She had enough information, and there was no reason more to   
torture the dying woman, although she was tempted with one last question.   
She kept quiet though because she believed, with or without confirmation   
from another source, that he was, indeed, still alive. Scully remained by   
Diana's side--a quiet watcher. Time passed, but more in feeling. Minutes   
turned to hours and dusk turned into deep evening.  
  
Diana was going fast. Her breathing began to slow, but she remained lucid.   
Her eyes blinked open weakly, and Diana turned her head to Scully, who   
dozing slightly jerked awake.  
  
"Thank you," she began, "for helping me--even after all . . ."  
  
"Shh," Scully said, patting Diana's hand. With that, a last breath broke   
from her lips and she shuddered dead, eyes half-opened and locked onto   
heaven.  
  
Scully stood up and shut Diana's eyes with her hand. For this woman, she   
thought, it was going to be a long struggle to God, but she resolved to pray   
for her and help her on her way.  
  
One last look and Scully moved out of the room and down the stairs to find   
Richter and Elspeth. It was time to move on. She shut the door quietly   
though there was no way she was going to distrub the dead. She forgot about   
the soup. It sat on the nightstand next to dead, neglected, uneaten and   
cold.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXxX  
  
"We'll bury her before we go." Scully stood and addressed them before the   
fireplace.  
  
"What did she tell you?" Richter inquired. He was still wiping the sleep   
from his eyes.  
  
Scully looked at Elspeth, and it seemed that in that glance, they both   
became aware of the mutual secret they now shared.  
  
"I'll tell you tomorrow. We need to get some rest for the trip."  
  
"Trip? Already?" Elspeth asked.  
  
"We'll find another car in the morning and then we're off to Madison. God,"   
she muttered in vain, "we've got to get moving. We've been inactive so long   
that nothing is going to happen if we don't make it so."  
  
"Then tomorrow," Elspeth said.  
  
"Tomorrow," Scully replied, shutting her eyes and saying a silent   
prayer--for all of them. They would need all the help they could get.  
  
XxXxXxXxX  
To Be Continued...  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before anyone starts going nutty, according to X-Files Unrestricted Access,  
Mulder did, according to his mother, suffer from epilepsy seizures until he  
was 12. So there ;-) 


	13. Chapter 12

**********************************  
"Manifest Destiny" Part 12  
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin' Mickeys  
**********************************  
  
The country they encountered wasn't as devoid of life as had been the  
islands of Northern Michigan.   
  
They hadn't sailed north along the shoreline long when they came across a  
harbor. They had sent out numerous calls to the harbormaster on the hailing  
frequency to no avail. But, just as they were about to give up and dock  
there anyway, an answer came through on the VHF.  
  
"Vessel hailing the harbormaster, vessel hailing the harbormaster, this is  
Seas The Day KRF-315, switch and answer on seventy-one, skipper if you read  
me, that's 7-1."  
  
Cass grabbed at the handset and immediately switched to channel 71. There  
was already a voice talking on the frequency.  
  
"Dave said to go to the third step," it said, "I can't believe he fell on  
the third step."  
  
Then it repeated itself.  
  
Cass looked up to the other members crowded around the radio, confused. She  
wasn't alone.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"   
  
Mulder and Invictus simply shrugged. John looked down at his feet, shaking  
his head.  
  
Alan, still somewhat sulky, mumbled something quietly.   
  
John bent his head toward the smaller man and asked him what he said.  
  
"I said, he's trying to tell you to go down three channels. To channel 68."  
  
When they all simply looked at him, he explained further.  
  
"It was something we came across in Lansing," he said, "they were saying  
the same thing when we switched channels to try to talk to the resistance.  
They say a name, and tell you how many channels you either have to go up or  
down by counting on the steps, and then whether *to* go up or down by  
either saying that he fell on the third step, meaning down, or he tripped,  
meaning up."   
  
"Fancy that," said Invictus.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
They had hit land in a small town just north of Racine.  
  
A group of about 20 individuals had been passing through the area and had  
been carrying a VHF radio when they heard Cass' hails. As luck would have  
it, 3 of them had had some sort of dealings with the resistance, and knew  
what was safe to say over the airways and what wasn't.  
  
Some members of the large group met with Cass, Mulder, Invictus, John and  
Alan and helped them to dock the boat and even supplied them with a car for  
their further journey to the state's formal capitol.  
  
They were fleeing from Chicago, they had said. The Windy City was on fire,  
and they had fled.  
  
They hadn't known why, but suspected that it was the colonists way of  
eliminating both the human and architectural elements of the city so they  
could put it to their own uses. The group, only about 5 strong at first,   
had managed to pick up people along on their way north, and eventually  
caravan along the shores of Lake Michigan. They were headed, they said, to  
the Porcupine Mountains. They had heard that there was a village there, a  
sort of safe house community where many survivors had gone to. Many of the  
group had lost family, and hoped to find them there, near Lake in the  
Clouds.   
  
None of the group had offered to go with Mulder's small party, but had told  
them what to expect when they got there, and where to, and where not to go.  
  
  
They had told of secret tunnels that the government and colonists had built  
underneath the city and university where the vaccine had been created,  
transported and, was apparently being held.   
  
They gave the small group all the information they could, some supplies,  
well wishes and then were on their way. Their need to find and reconnect  
with their families, intense.  
  
And so Mulder, Invictus and their co-conspirators from Mackinac Island  
found themselves in one of the arcane tunnels of Madison, Wisconsin, near  
the shores of Lake Mendota planning their next move.  
  
"Listen, Pike said that when we found the tunnels, that we should go to the  
Capitol building. That's where they think the vaccine is, right?" Invictus  
asked.  
  
"Yes," Cass said, "but he also said that it could be pure speculation.  
Rumor."  
  
"Right," Mulder added, "but the fact that the tunnels are here at all I  
think, gives credence to the fact that the rumors that the resistance has  
been gathering are all true. And you yourself, Cass, said that you'd heard  
over the resistance grapevine that the vaccine was in Madison and all of  
that."  
  
"True, but I hadn't heard about the tunnels. It could just be a story.  
Hyperbole."  
  
"Do I need to mention the fact that we're standing IN the tunnels again,"  
Mulder piped in, "or would that be overkill?"  
  
Cass sighed and nodded. He had a hell of a point. But she was wary of  
moving or taking action until they had a little more information. On the  
other hand, Mulder and Invictus wanted to move as soon as possible. They  
were afraid that what was happening in Chicago was happening in the rest of  
the world and that they needed to stop it at any cost.   
  
They were at something of an impasse.   
  
When they had arrived in the city, their helpers told them, they had to be  
careful. Helicopters supposedly flew around like nobodies business and much  
of the city had been leveled. There were very few locals left, as was the  
rumor, and those that were there took pot shots at just about anything that  
moved.   
  
They found that just about everything they had been told so far was  
accurate.   
  
And still Cass was against doing anything.  
  
And that was starting to get to Mulder.   
  
He was still sore emotionally from missing Scully, and his memory and the  
world he'd lived in, and he was on a short rope that was beginning to fray.  
  
He took a deep breath and tried not to let his emotions consume him.  
  
Fat chance, he thought to himself. Like that had ever worked before. It  
certainly wasn't going to work now.   
  
It was beginning to be to much, and he was ready to pop.  
  
"That's it!" Mulder burst, nearly out of nowhere. "I need some air. I'll be  
back."  
  
"Do you want some company?" Invictus asked quietly as Mulder made his way  
out of the temporary headquarters they had made. They'd found a room with a  
table, a few chairs, and an empty file cabinet and claimed it for their  
own.  
  
"No," he said shortly, and disappeared.  
  
"Was it something I said?" Cass asked, half joking.  
  
Invictus turned to her when he was sure Mulder was out of earshot.   
  
"Partly," he said, "but that man's mind is an emotional battlefield right  
now, I think, and I don't even think *he* knows what side he's on."   
  
"Getting his memory back was that hard on him?" John asked, "I would think  
that it'd be a relief."  
  
"I suppose it depends on what you have to remember," Invictus said, "when  
he couldn't remember, he didn't know what he'd lost. He'd gotten everything  
back, and then instantly realized that most of it was probably gone. We've  
all had some time to deal with losing our families and homes and  
lifestyles. He hasn't."  
  
"Do you think it's too much for him?" Cass asked timidly, not really  
wanting to know.  
  
"I can't tell," he answered morbidly.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
When Mulder reached the entrance to the tunnel, he retrieved his gun from  
it's holster and held it at the ready.  
  
He opened the door slowly and scanned the white horizon, looking for  
anything that might be a threat.   
  
Seeing nothing, he stepped cautiously out and took a deep, cleansing  
breath.  
  
The air had gotten much colder in the past couple of days, and had a crisp,  
biting quality to it. More snow was on the way.   
  
Mulder hadn't had much time to digest any of the events that had happened  
since he awoke in a bunk, fathoms underwater, next to a man who's name  
meant "Unconquered."   
  
Only Mulder's focus on the goal of getting the vaccine and staying alive to  
do so kept his mind off of all that he'd lost.   
  
But when he did let himself think, he felt most licentious when he thought  
of Scully.   
  
And he let himself think a little too often.   
  
What had she gone through? Where was she? Was she even alive? What would  
have happened if he'd took her along to with him to meet with Curtis  
McCloud on that fateful day?   
  
Mulder shook his head and tried to clear it of any such thoughts. They  
didn't help, and he had other things to concentrate on at the moment. He  
would be with Scully again, but he'd have to save the world first.  
  
Small task, he thought to himself sarcastically, easily done.  
  
Deep in the background he began to hear the beating rotary blades of  
another chopper.  
  
Mulder again scanned the sky for the source of the sound. He didn't see any  
helicopter and didn't really worry. They had been flying all over the city  
on a near constant basis. But they seemed to avoid the lakes, and  
concentrate mostly on the university and surrounding area buildings.   
  
He walked down to the edge of the lake, crunching through the blanket of  
snow and on to where the lake lapped gently at the shore. A thin layer of  
ice bordered the chilly water and it's crystallized cousin. He surveyed  
what lay before him.  
  
The sun had just set and the sky was getting more and more dusky. He felt  
like he hadn't seen the sun in days. Then he realized that he hadn't.  
They'd stayed in the tunnels during the daylight hours, and when they had  
emerged when the sun was still burning overhead, it had been masked by  
billowy gray clouds spitting a constant haze of white.  
  
An early November snowfall had fit, somehow. The gray clouds of cold vapor,  
dust and ash moving in with the clouds of destruction and despair, as if  
the Earth sought to purify herself once more. To cover what had happened on  
her surface and begin anew.  
  
Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and twirled to  
his right. Three people were ducking into a nearby building, not far from  
the entrance to the tunnel that he had just come out of.   
  
He was reaching behind his back to draw his gun as a precaution when he  
focused on the last of the three. The figure was small, definitely female,  
with a bright, red hair that matched Scully's color exactly. Her hair was a  
bit longer than he remembered Scully's being, but from the back it looked  
almost just like her…  
  
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and convince himself that it  
wasn't, couldn't be her. He was only projecting and unconsciously trying to  
make himself feel better, after his deep, longing ruminations. But he  
couldn't help the feeling that maybe, just maybe…  
  
She had just made it to the doorway when the woman paused. She tensed a bit  
and slowly turned around, as though she felt his eyes on her.  
  
And their eyes met.   
  
And it *was* her.  
  
For a split second, neither moved, staring unbelieving into each others  
eyes. Obscured only by fluctuating puffs of steamy breaths. They neither  
heard nor saw nor felt anything but one another.   
  
The second of inaction and reconnection ended, and Mulder moved to run to  
her, their matching gaze still held. Just as he did so, a white-hot light  
blinded him.   
  
He blinked and looked away and his other senses hit him again with blunt  
force. Momentarily blinded, he staggered to the side just as the roaring of  
helicopter blades hit his ears, and the force of wind created by it swirled  
around him, sending sharp crystals of snow into his eyes and mouth. He  
looked up to the source and the chopper flew by above him, close to the  
ground, keeping it's light trained on him, turning almost immediately to  
make another pass.   
  
Then, the search light from the chopper swung around to where Scully was  
standing.   
  
Mulder seized the opportunity presented him and dove headlong into the  
frigid lake, disappearing beneath it's surface. He swam as far as he could  
underwater until he couldn't hold his breath anymore.  
  
He broke the surface with his head just enough to take a deep breath and  
look to Scully.  
  
The helicopter's light was shining full-force on the doorway where she had  
been standing.  
  
But Scully was gone.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
The chopper quickly moved it's search back to the water, but Mulder easily  
eluded their detection, and soon, the helicopter gave up and headed back  
towards the Capitol building.   
  
Mulder stayed for a moment in the freezing water, then emerged and ran,  
dripping wet to the door that Scully had disappeared into.   
  
He should have been freezing and stiff, standing there in the snow, but he  
was, finally, on fire. Something he hadn't been in far too long.  
  
It was locked.  
  
Mulder pounded on it, and considered shooting the lock off, but thought  
better of it.   
  
Better, he thought, to go and tell the others and employ their help.   
  
He paused for a moment looking at the door, willing her to open it, then  
whirled and headed back into the tunnels, water flying behind and around  
him. Frosting over his path.  
  
He navigated the twisting maze of concrete quickly and nearly burst into  
the room where he'd left the others.  
  
"Whoa, Mulder!" Cass nearly yelped when he burst in.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" Invictus asked right after her.  
  
"Nothing," he said, dripping his way to the table they were sitting around,  
"but..."  
  
"But what?" Invictus asked, catching onto the keyed-up, excited energy  
Mulder was all but oozing.  
  
"Scully's here," he said excitedly, "I saw her. But then a chopper came  
and…"  
  
"Whoa, there, hold up!" Invictus said, trying to calm him.  
  
Mulder took a deep breath, barely able to contain his anxious, almost  
joyful excitement. It wasn't a face he wore often, but it fit him well.   
  
Invictus was loathe to upset it.  
  
"Huh?" John piped in, "I'm lost, why are you wet? And you actually *saw*  
Scully? She's here?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
They all exchanged worried glances as Mulder nearly beamed around them.   
  
Invictus was getting more worried. Mulder had been through hell and back,  
and it was beginning to show. He doubted Dana Scully was even alive, much  
less in Madison, Wisconsin. He feared the younger man was seeing things to  
make himself feel better or stop hurting. He didn't want his delusions to  
go any further.  
  
"Mulder," he broke in, "I know you want it to be her, but—"   
  
"It was!" Mulder said loudly, his excitement gone, replaced by an anxious  
rage. "She's here!"  
  
He slammed his fist down on the table fiercely in emphasis with his last  
word.  
  
Cass shot a worried look to John who threw her back a matching one. He held  
her gaze a moment and shook his head.   
  
Mulder was losing it.   
XxXxXxXxXx   
  
She blinked, and her eyes adjusted to the view through the misty glass. The   
wide expanse of landscape was white--pure and wild and infinite. She   
blinked again, this time hard. The reflection off the snow made her feel   
blind. Her hand moved to touch the window and her fingers melted away some   
of the condensation, but she stopped, leaving trails of heat streaking down   
the rest of foggy glass. She grunted, sighed, and readjusted herself,   
sinking into the apolstry of the backseat.  
  
Elspeth glanced back over her shoulder and frowned to herself. She felt a   
vibe--not indicating something wrong, but something about to happen. She   
threw a look Richter's way. He was busy concentrating on the snow-covered   
highway as the car slid and shuddered as he pressed and then eased on the   
break. She stared out at the long road to Madison, seeing only nightmares   
coalescing into something even more menacing. Something was there, that was   
for certain. It was going to be more of a question whether or not they   
could survive what lay there in wait for them.  
  
XxXxXxXxXx  
  
The trip had taken all night. With the roads in their atrocious conditions,   
they could not go faster unless they had been haphazard enough to sacrifice   
speed for safety. But they had gone too far to risk it on something like a   
few hours. The end of the world would have to wait until they arrived.  
  
The freak snow storm had not hit Madison as badly as it had Chicago, and   
unlike the Second City it was untouched, at least this part so far, by   
destruction. It was hauntingly beautiful in a way--the frost clinging to   
the thin tree branches and the untouched splendor of snow, but they only had   
moments to take it in. They were finally here, and time could not be   
wasted.  
  
Their arrival time was somewhere before the early hours of morning. Entering   
the east side of town they could see the capitol building rising before them   
as the car made its way down the city's main drag. The sun lit up the   
building, an miniature version of the Capitol in D.C., in the pale morning   
sunlight. Scully, upright and glancing cautiously out toward their target   
destination, felt a slight lump develop in her throat. Capitol hill had   
been annihilated when colonization had first begun. The thousands of   
refugees who had believed that they could find refuge there had all   
perished, the smell of death shrouding Washington like a veil for weeks . .   
. .  
  
"We probably can't continue on driving too long," Elspeth said quietly,   
breaking the silence. "If this is really the place where," she hesitated,   
"the vaccine is, it's doubtful that the colonists and their cohorts would   
leave it unchecked."  
  
"They want to find it just as badly as we do," Scully finished tonelessly.  
  
"Maybe even more so," Richter added, a knot growing in his stomach.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Elspeth had been right--they could not drive for long. Twenty minutes into   
the city they saw the first Huey hovering over the city. It swept in and   
out of their view, but it always returned like a bad rash. Almost clipping   
nearby trees and buildings, the helicopter began to make its way in their   
direction, all the while blowing enough snow around to cause a mini-storm.  
  
"Something doesn't seem right. They should have seen us by now," Elspeth   
said, biting her fist. "I don't care if we've stopped when it's come by . .   
. we're the only car moving on this road--they should be able to notice us.   
I don't even know why we're still in the car."  
  
"You're right. There's something funny about this." Richter stopped the   
car and looked at both of them.  
  
"I propose we get the hell out of this car then," Scully said as she zipped   
up her parka.  
  
They ran from the car and huddled beneath the porch of a house. Their puffs   
of breath came out unevenly and in large, white hazes.  
  
"Maybe they've been too busy searching for the vaccine to notice us,"   
Richter said blowing on his hands before dipping them into his pocket. He   
shivered. Scully hoped it was from the cold and not from fear.  
  
"Let's hope so," Scully replied numbly. "What's the game plan."  
  
"I think we should get in the house--take some cover," Elspeth said.  
  
"Good pl. . ." Scully trailed off. Her jaw dropped as she watched Elspeth   
do a slight turn before she kicked the door in.  
  
"Cripes," Elspeth swore to herself. "I didn't mean to knock it down." She   
did a double take when there was no response from either Scully or Richter.   
She spread out her hands questioningly. "What?"  
  
Scully swallowed hard. "A little energized, aren't you?" she asked dryly.  
  
"It's the adrenaline. Always gives me a little boost." Elspeth smiled   
confidently and then sauntered into the house. She ran a finger along a   
nearby bookshelves, intently examining the dust on her finger. This house   
had been abandoned for a while.  
  
"A little boost?" Richter echoed shaking his head. He sighed and followed   
them into the house. Scully wandered into kitchen as Elspeth walked to the   
back of the house. Richter plopped down on the couch and stretched out his   
legs. He was still sore from the confinement back in Chicago, not to   
mention from driving the five hours it took them to make it to Madison.  
  
"Lake Mendota isn't too far from here. We should head that way," Elspeth   
called.  
  
"How do you know that?" Scully asked from the kitchen.  
  
"I went to college here," she replied in a voice that seemed to lose its   
strength the more she said. It was decidedly sad. Then she said no more   
than that. They still knew little about her past, but they knew that they   
could not get anything more out of her unless she wanted to tell them. "The   
helicopters have been avoiding the lake areas," she continued when she   
re-entered the living room and sat on the coffee table. She stared directly   
at Richter as she hoisted one leg onto the table and rested her elbow on her   
knee and cradled her head in the palm of her hand. "We can probably be more   
inconspicuous that way. The vaccine is probably somewhere on the   
University's campus or somewhere in the downtown area--maybe the capitol   
building. Though that seems a little obvious."  
  
"They probably would have found it already if that were the case."  
  
"Well let's hope it's not the case," Scully said. "We should rest for a   
little bit. Get warm and eat a little bit," she said as she displayed a tin   
of canned ravioli. "It will probably be a while before we have this much   
luxury again."  
  
"Tonight would seem the best time, under cover of darkness," Elspeth said   
ominously.  
  
"Is that a glint in your eye I see?" Richter asked playfully.  
  
"Could be," she mused.  
  
Scully laughed and stopped as quickly as she had started. Laughter--it was   
such a foreign sound to her now. To all of them, she corrected as the other   
two turned to look at her, open-mouthed. They all glanced at each   
other--the feeling was mutual. Scully shook off the strange feeling and   
took a seat next to Richter. She gave Elspeth an appraising look.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You just seem . . . kind of different." Secretly to herself she wondered   
if Elspeth's change had to do something with her being a hybrid . . .  
  
"You mean I've stopped being so dull and melancholy?" She gave them an   
embarrassed smile. "Don't worry, I'm over that."  
  
"I actually was talking more about the whole kicking in the door thing."   
Scully smiled.  
  
"I've been too inactive." She shook her head. "What have I done so far?   
Yelled. Threatened . . ." she gave Richter a sidelong glance, "and been   
captured and tested. It's time to get my ass in gear and help out with this   
mission! I guess all I needed was a little adventure." She raised a hand   
in anticipation of their comments. "Yes, being chased from Rhode Island to   
Indiana didn't qualify as enough of an adventure for me."  
  
They all laughed and the room felt suddenly warmer. Scully sank back deeper   
into the chair. Last moments of peace she thought sadly through the good   
humor. Last chance to give up . . . Last chance to find Mulder. She   
sighed. Would she ever forget him? Did she want to forget?  
  
She closed her eyes. No more last chances, she thought. No more regrets.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXx  
  
At dusk they headed off. The game plan was this: Hit the lakeshore and   
maneuver somehow towards the capitol square, and before morning find a base   
from which they could operate. Find firearms. More plans would be made   
once they were safely within range of their target--the Capitol building.  
  
Scully pulled the navy blue knit cap over her head, her teeth set and her   
face fiercely determined. Do or die, she thought. There was no in-between.  
  
They pushed out into the snowy neighborhoods of Madison, quickly dodging in   
and out of the shadows. Quick and intense they were so wired on stress that   
exhaustion did not overtake them. Aside from the presence of the   
helicopters which now they only heard and did not see, their only   
distraction or impediments were the bodies and the wreckages of destruction   
that lay around them, dark angels cast into the snow.  
  
They were on the University of Wisconsin campus now, Elspeth hissed as the   
continued to run. Heading their group, she waved them closer and jabbed her   
finger toward a building not too far in the distance. In there, was her   
silent call. Now.  
  
Surveying their surroundings, they broke into a dead run towards the   
building. Ducking beneath a tree, a branch caught Scully's hat and ripped   
it off. Her head snapped back viciously but she only allowed herself one   
curse before she pushed forward yet again. The cold wind swept through her   
hair and effectively caused a chill to rocket through her body. Almost   
there, she thought, gritting her teeth. Almost.  
  
Richter reached the building first, Elspeth trailing close behind. Scully   
was almost to the door when the feeling hit her. She moved closer, touching   
the doorway that Elspeth had thrown open when a figure and a flicker of a   
movement became caught in her peripheral vision. There were eyes on her.  
  
As if caught in slow-motion she twisted slowly and saw him. Mulder. All the   
breath in her body left her and she felt as though someone had punched her   
in the stomach. Her heart felt as though it had exploded in her chest and   
her knees gave way. No, she thought, it could not be him. But there he   
was. And those eyes so intently trained on hers--they were unmistakably   
his. Nothing else could cripple her like this.  
  
Her vision began to blur and she blinked ddesperately. Fluttering her eyes   
wide her line of vision became solely focused on him, and there beneath the   
impartial skies there was only him and her. Then she saw him move and every   
impusle in her body told her to run to him.  
  
All in a split-second this began and ended. A white light and the roar of   
helicopter blades overtook the night and Mulder disappeared, becoming   
another ghost of her past.  
  
Elspeth screamed. "GET THE HELL IN HERE!" She grabbed Scully by the arm,   
jerking her like a puppet into the doorway.  
  
Suddenly the world gave way beneath them. She heard Richter's gasp and   
Elspeth's amazed, short scream as she felt herself tumbling silently down.   
She had become Alice in Wonderland. And Mulder's face became every painting   
in the rabbit hole as the continued their free fall.  
  
Then with a thud, there was nothing but darkness. 


	14. Chapter 13

Part 13  
  
Mulder spent about half of the remaining evening trying to convince the  
others that he had seen Scully. When they had finally started to agree with  
him that it might be her, he realized they were only doing it to make him  
calm down, and he spent the rest of the evening effectively sitting in the  
corner and pouting.   
  
They'd laid down the few blankets they had along the floor in the small  
room and were settling in for the night.  
  
Mulder was along the far wall, laying on his side with a blanket draped  
over him, facing away from the others.  
  
He was dressed only in a T-shirt and his boxers, as the rest of his clothes  
were hanging out over the table and chairs, almost dry.   
  
He felt confused and vulnerable, and the lack of his clothes, though  
barely, only reinforced his emotional turmoil.   
  
Invictus had tried talking to him once, but had given up soon after. Mulder  
wasn't in the mood to talk.   
  
And he couldn't decide much of what mood he was in.   
  
All he knew was that he needed to be alone. He felt that way already, so he  
figured he might as well complete the ensemble.   
  
He got up suddenly and grabbed his clothes. Quickly putting them on, trying  
to avoid the stares of the rest of the group, he tied his boots up.  
  
"Going somewhere?" Invictus asked quietly. Looking around the room, Mulder  
ascertained that it was a collective conjecture. Everyone was staring.  
  
"Yes," he answered shortly, "I need to think."  
  
He overheard Cass whisper to Invictus.  
  
"I *won't* go far," he said, standing up looking directly at Cass, "I'll be  
back. I need to clear my head."   
  
With that, he stood, and left the small enclosure. Instead of turning  
towards the door that led to the outside, he turned toward the interior of  
the labyrinth and headed deeper into the tunnels.  
  
He didn't mean to go far, only so far as to escape the feeling that there  
was anyone immediately around him. But he'd gone liminal.   
  
He had a tendency to do that, he knew. To live so far in his head that he  
functioned on the barest of motor-mechanical skills. It was a form of  
highway hypnosis he'd perfected over the years.   
  
And now he found himself in a particularly large section of tunnel that he  
and the other group members hadn't ventured into yet. There were several  
doors on either side of the tunnel, these much bigger and more secure than  
any they'd seen yet.   
  
He stopped as soon as he realized his folly and held his breath, listening.  
  
  
There was a faint hum in the background, but no sounds to indicate that he  
wasn't alone. He breathed a sigh of relief and curiously, though still a  
bit nervously, took a few steps forward and tried one of the door handles.   
  
It came open easily enough, though the room was pitch black and he couldn't  
see into it more than a few feet. Forgoing the idea of trying to find a  
light switch—he and the other members of the group decided early on to  
simply go by the lights that seemed to be on at all times in the main  
hallways of the tunnels. Though there had been a few light switches, they  
hadn't wanted to alert anyone to their presence, and hadn't turned on any  
lights. He closed the door and moved to the next one.   
  
It was similarly open.  
  
He tried every door in the hallway and found all but one to be unlocked.   
  
He was just turning to make his way back to the rest of the group when he  
thought he heard something. He paused, fight or flight flaring.   
  
Almost positive he was imagining it, he turned to head back when he heard  
the sound again. He froze when he realized that they were footsteps and  
quiet voices, and they were coming his way from the opposite direction,  
from deeper in the tunnels.  
  
He threw open the nearest door and went through the doorway blindly,  
closing it softly behind him.   
  
As he knelt by the doorway, gun in hand, ready to fight back should they  
come through the door, his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that  
permeated the room. Before his eyes could make out anything in the room,  
his nose immediately began categorizing it's musty scent.  
  
It smelled like a pet shop, he thought to himself. Cedar shavings and shit.  
  
  
Then he began to make out shapes. There were cages strewn about the room,  
all empty. Some with the doors hanging wildly open, some shut. There were  
cabinets lining one wall, and tables clear of any debris in between.   
  
This must have been a laboratory, he thought, where they perfected the  
vaccine.   
  
So they were right, they WERE in the right place. Now all they had to do  
was find it.   
  
If he lived that long, that was.  
  
The footsteps got closer, and paused right in front of his door. He held  
his breath, willing the party to move on.   
  
A few seconds later, after some mumbling that he couldn't make out, they  
footsteps resumed, headed for the rest of his group, and he breathed out  
reverently.   
  
But his relief was short-lived. They were headed right for Invictus and  
Cass and the rest, and they had no way of knowing who or what was headed  
their way.   
  
But there was no way for him to get there first and warn them, so he stayed  
put and waited. He'd head back after a while, he determined, and threw up a  
short prayer to a God who, even if existed was probably dead that his  
friends remained safe, and that Scully, wherever she was in the city, was  
safe too.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
He waited a half an hour and cautiously headed back toward the small room  
where they'd stationed themselves. He moved quietly, with his gun drawn,  
trying not to make a sound.  
  
When he got within about ten yards of the room and still heard nothing he  
started feeling equal parts of both relief and trepidation.   
  
He quietly reached his head around the corner and saw all of his party but  
Invictus sleeping soundly on the floor. Invictus was sitting at the table  
looking curiously at him.  
  
Mulder motioned for him to come out and join him and he did.  
  
When they'd gone about twenty feet from the small room, Mulder turned and  
spoke softly to Invictus.   
  
"There are people here," he said, motioning back toward where he had just  
come from, "they were headed this way."  
  
"I haven't seen anyone," Invictus answered him, "do you know how many, or  
if they were military or whatever?"   
  
Mulder shook his head.   
  
"Well," Invictus said, "I'll wake up John and have him keep watch with me  
for a few hours, we haven't heard or seen anyone, they're probably just  
locals exploring or something. In the mean time, I don't see that there's a  
lot we can do. Go lay down and get some sleep, you need it."  
  
Mulder was about to agree, but had heard a shade of doubt and worry in the  
older man's words. And Mulder knew he wasn't thinking about the people  
Mulder had just heard.  
  
"I saw her," he said, his voice low.   
  
"I believe…" Invictus hesitated, "I believe that YOU believe you saw her."   
  
Mulder simply nodded at the man and went and laid down. He admitted that he  
needed some rest. Maybe when he woke up things would look a bit  
differently.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Things certainly did look different when he woke up.  
  
For one thing, he wasn't allowed the gradual recognition that normally  
comes when ones body plays reveille.   
  
He was jolted awake.  
  
For a split second, he was absolutely confused and had no idea what was  
going on. Then, when he saw Invictus and John Baxter at the doorway with  
both of their guns drawn and trained on a man he could only partially see,  
he bolted upright and stood where he'd been laying.   
  
From his new vantage point, he could see that the unknown man had one arm  
in a makeshift sling, and the other he was holding back slightly behind him  
as if he was driving and had to come to an immediate stop, trying to  
protect whomever was in the passenger's seat.   
  
He could see at least one more pair of legs behind the man, but could see  
no faces.  
  
"I asked who the hell you were," Baxter all but shouted.   
  
Cass was still laying down, but had shifted her weight to her elbow and was  
looking on the events before her with apprehension.  
  
Alan was simply sitting up, a blank look on his face.  
  
"I could ask the same of you," the man said.  
  
"You could," Baxter answered, "but *I* have the gun, so *I* ask the  
questions."  
  
"Would it make a difference?" The man asked, "you're just going to kill us  
anyway, aren't you?"  
  
"Alright look," Invictus interjected, "let's just settle down. You and  
whoever you've got out there just come in here slowly, and we'll talk this  
out."  
  
The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded when a  
voice said softly behind him, "Richter…"  
  
He moved forward slowly, wincing a bit as he walked.   
  
Mulder looked behind him and his jaw instantly dropped.   
  
Coming through the door was a small woman who had her arm wrapped around  
another's waist. The other woman's ankle was swollen so badly that Mulder  
could see from where he was how large it was. She was concentrating so  
hard on walking that only when she looked up through tangled strands of red  
hair and met eyes with Mulder did she stop.  
  
And then, after a few seconds, Scully fainted.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
When she regained consciousness, the first thing she was aware of was the  
throbbing pain in her right ankle. Her attached leg was elevated and  
resting on something relatively hard and cold. Her head, conversly, was  
resting on something relatively soft and warm.   
  
When it shifted under her, she struggled to open her eyes. She blinked in  
the overhead lights.  
  
"I was hoping you'd wake up soon, you were starting to cut off my  
circulation."  
  
Mulder? She thought to herself.  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
Oh. Maybe she'd said it.  
  
But then, she was more likely feverish and hallucinating. She was almost  
convinced of this when beneath her, something shifted again. You couldn't  
hallucinate feeling, right? Her mind was too muddled with pain and  
overwhelmed with confusion and hope for her to begin even thinking. But she  
could feel.  
  
"Oh my God," she said quietly, almost to herself, reaching up to grasp at  
anything, everything, "is that really you?" 


	15. Chapter 14

**********************************  
"Manifest Destiny" Part 14  
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin' Mickeys  
**********************************  
  
A cautious whisper.  
  
"She's awake."  
  
A glance and a survey of the surroundings.  
  
"I suggest we move." A smirk danced on the verge of a woman's lips. "I   
think after all this time, a little privacy is called for."  
  
Muffled laughter and the pitter-patter of not-so-little feet shuffling into   
another room left Mulder and Scully alone, lying, albeit injured, in each   
other's arms.  
  
Invictus took lead, and as they left the room to allow their friends some   
catch-up time, they could not refrain from the slightest bit of   
eavesdropping. Somehow the tone, not so much the words, filled the others   
with a glimmer of hope that temporarily brushed away the despair creeping   
into their once-vibrant determination.  
  
He unconsciously brushed her cheek with this well-weathered hands, a   
gesture of tentative love that appeared to be done out of habit, but really   
was not. There was a catch in his throat. "Yes, Scully, it's really me."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Over their mutual concern for Scully, Elspeth and Richter avoid coming to   
blows with Invictus' faction. Her swoon had not come unexpected--they had   
sustained a vicious fall, one that left Scully limping and Richter partially   
incapacitated. Elspeth had amazingly suffered little damage, coming away   
with a few cuts and bruises. Winding through the dark tunnels below   
downtown Madison, they had finally discovered a light source, which lead   
them into their present company.  
  
John's gruff voice commanded their attention back to the issue at hand.   
"Richter, you said your name was?"  
  
Standing close enough to Elspeth that they seemed joined, Richter nodded.   
"Who are you?"  
  
Ignoring him, John pressed on. His head flicked slightly towards Elspeth.   
"And you, who are you? What's your business here?"  
  
"We mean no harm unless you do," she said icily. "That fact that you're   
still alive accounts for that."  
  
Her words threw John for a loop. Although the odds were decidedly in their   
favor, the . . .John could not think of a better word--the balls she had   
displayed and the stealth apparently in her eyes made them step back and   
reconsider their actions. Then from the shadows behind them, the observing   
figure of Invictus emerged sage-like to face Elspeth.  
  
"You are familiar." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
The silence hung heavy as the underground dampness. Invictus half-circled   
them. Richter shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his injured arm. Elspeth,   
warrior-like in stance, still in her transformed state, eyed him back with   
equal curiosity. Then it came, a spark of recognition that lit up her dark   
eyes.  
  
"Out of the night that covers me, black as the Pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul."  
  
Invictus betrayed a smile. "You obviously know who I am," he said with a   
small nod, "but who are you?"  
  
She moved to speak, but Richter touched her arm to stop her. Her gaze   
softened as they looked upon him, acknowledging his concern, but her face   
conveyed to him her decision. "My name is Elspeth Parr, Mr. McCloud. I see   
you've recovered the famous Fox Mulder."  
  
"And you the mysterious Dana Scully, once thought to be merely a delusion."  
  
"We all sort of discovered each other, along the way. Our mixed company is   
a pawn of destiny through decision." She shot a look back to the room where   
Mulder and Scully rested. "And it's good to see that our queen and king are   
finally back together."  
  
The light mood was shattered by a grating voice breaking through unwanted.   
"What the hell is going on?" Alan snapped, his irritation taut as wire.   
"McCloud, who are these deviants? And why do we have to have anything to do   
with them?" His face was twisted with suspicion.  
  
Cass rolled her eyes, shoving him. "They're on our side, you fool."   
However, Alan still didn't look convinced.  
  
Richter cleared his throat in attempt to gain attention his way. "If I'm   
reading this right, our goals are the same. I suggest we work together."   
Elspeth's quick look to his face beamed with admiration. "I'm damn sick of   
this game," he continued, his voice a little tight. "It's time to win or   
lose, and I'm not in the mood to lose to some glorified, extraterrestrial   
bullies."  
  
"I'm guessing you're looking for exactly the same thing we are," Elspeth   
asked. "The . . ."  
  
" . . . vaccine," Invictus said, clapping his hands together in devious   
delight. "Welcome to Mission Save the Earth."  
  
"Glad to be aboard," Elspeth said, now grinning widely.  
  
Cass stepped ahead, her grin matching Elspeth's. "Yeah! Let's show them   
what having game is all about!"  
  
And from both sides, they all let out a collective groan.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Mulder shifted her pant leg up gently to get a better look at her swollen  
ankle. He paused a moment and flashed her a joking little smile.  
  
"Scully, you're legs are hairy," he said.  
  
"So's your face," she replied in kind.  
  
His grin grew wider and he turned his attention back to her ankle. "How are   
you feeling?" he asked, giving her the once-over.  
  
She shrugged, or maybe she was stretching--he couldn't distinguish, and   
said, "I've been better." Then her voice hitched and she pulled back a   
little bit, looking into his hazel eyes, her blue ones softening as she did   
so. "I take that back, I don't think I've ever felt this good."   
Impulsively, she threw her arms around him and held him tight, running her   
hands up and down his back to assure her even more. He reeled a bit from   
the hug, but returned it after only a second's worth of hesitation. He   
didn't let her go until he felt her arms slacken and experienced the   
sensation of her warmth leaving his embrace.  
  
Then, she made contact again. Shoving him with both arms, she demanded,   
"Where the hell have you been?"  
  
Mulder gave himself a moment, propping himself back up with his arms and   
letting the air that she had knocked out of him, back into his lungs.   
"Where have I been . . . ?" he trailed. She gave him a hard stare and   
besides himself with good humor, he couldn't repress a smile. She was still   
tough-as-nails Scully. "Where have I been," he repeated. Then giving her a   
roguish grin, he answered, "I wish I knew myself. It's all still really   
fuzzy."  
  
"So you're telling me you had amnesia?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Actually? Yeah."  
  
"Oh brother."  
  
"Where have I heard that before?" he moaned.  
  
Then a little kinder, she asked, "Really Mulder, what's happened to you in   
all this time?" A small smile betrayed her face. "I'm used to having you   
run out on me, disappearing--being dead and returning from it, but the   
circumstances usually aren't this . . . extreme." Then as after-though she   
added, "And that's saying a lot."  
  
He let out a long sigh. So much had happened and she hadn't even seen the   
tip of the iceberg yet. Scully's face remained ever-inquiring, and now,   
looking into it again so close for the first time in a very long time, he   
found himself lost and dizzy again, like so many times before in the years   
they had known each other.  
  
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "Are you going to tell me or . . ." He   
silenced her with a hand. Her eyes wandered confused over his face.  
  
"Or what," he mumbled, offering it as a suggestion, not a repetition. I   
think that I'm going to kiss you now, Scully," he said, voice cracking but   
determined. Her mouth formed a perfect "O" but she said nothing in protest.   
He took it as a positive sign. "I just want you to hear me out. Let me   
kiss you and you can slap me or yell at me afterwards. I just, I just think   
this is something I need to do." He swallowed hard, embarrassed and anxious   
all at once. He looked at her again, searching.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" she asked softly.  
  
Gently, they pressed their foreheads together, noses touching   
ever-so-slightly. She wet her lips, terror streaked with excitement in her   
eyes. Blinking, he finally leaned in first and touched her mouth with his.   
He felt Scully's sudden intake of breath, but then just as quickly felt her   
relax into the kiss. It began sweet--a melancholy interlude setting them up   
for the harmonic climax of a masterpiece. As the kiss escalated, so did   
their movements. Her hands went to cup his face, the stubble welcoming to   
her hands. His arms curled around her waist, then climbed up her back,   
wrapping her up so completely that it could not be determined where one   
began and the other ended.  
  
She tilted her head back and he followed her lead, their kiss twisting and   
turning in the throes of passion. When they finally broke apart due to lack   
of air, they did so reluctantly. Gazing at each other in as much surprise   
as in pleasure, they pulled back, numb and wordless.  
  
Clearing her throat, Scully broke the silence. "I don't think I'm going   
have to slap you for that," she said, her voice analytical. Reaching out,   
she took his hand. Then taking the cue, he pulled her closer, and they   
kissed again, oblivious for the moment of all that surrounded them and   
awaited them beyond the light of each other's company.  
  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Invictus cleared his throat and broke Mulder and Scully out of their revelry   
of each other. They both looked up at the same time, the flush of   
embarrassment coloring their faces. Invictus could only smile, choking down   
a joke to allow them their peace. Probably the first peace for them in a   
damn long time, he thought.  
  
"How are you feeling, Dana?" a smooth voice asked, tinged with concern.   
Elspeth stepped forward towards them. Reluctantly, they disengaged   
themselves from each other and Scully allowed Elspeth to examine her ankle,   
even though she was more than capable, and more qualified, to make any sort   
of diagnosis.  
  
"I assume you all have gotten to know each other," Mulder said with a wave   
of his hand towards their group.  
  
"Yes, but I don't believe we've met," a dark-haired stranger said to him.   
"Richter McLachlan." He came into the light cautiously and bowed his head   
in greeting. Seeing him injured, Mulder did the same in greeting him.   
"I've heard much about you, Mr. Mulder. I'm happy to meet you."  
  
"Under the circumstances," Mulder said in equal politeness, "it's my   
pleasure." Then he turned to an attending Elspeth who was brushing a   
tendril of hair from her eyes when he looked. Sensing him, she turned and   
thrust out a hand. They exchanged a firm handshake, not a word passing   
between them until Elspeth twitched an eyebrow.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"You are real," she mused. "I hope you're as good as advertised."  
  
Mulder shot Scully a questioning glance to which she only returned to him a   
wily smile. "Ah, I see how it goes. Well, I suppose we should do something   
then to get this shindig off the ground, hm?"  
  
Invictus snorted. "It's about time."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Elspeth moved from Richter's side. She shot Invictus a look, to which he   
acknowledged and addressed the group. She was still too much of a stranger   
to presume that the others would listen, no less trust her or Richter.  
  
"We've been discussing plans of action, and I think the best idea out of the   
pot is splitting into two groups and searching the tunnels out. We need to   
find routes of escape or routes that will lead us *somewhere*." Invictus   
rubbed his chin. "Hopefully we'll be able to find out some information,   
too, though I don't know how. Maybe artifacts." He shrugged nervously,   
turning his eyes towards Mulder and Scully who sat rapt in attention. "Two   
groups of three. That way we're big enough for back-up and small enough to   
elude attention if we run into any trouble."  
  
"There are eight of us," Mulder pointed out.  
  
"And one of us--Scully--is too injured to be moving about too freely. And   
another who's still having memory problems and has to remember something   
important, no doubt," Invictus chided, "that's you, needs to stay with her.   
Anyway, we need people at a pivot point to report to, and we can't risk all   
of us at once."  
  
Cass tossed John a gun. "Remember to arm yourselves," he said, "but stay   
calm. We don't need to be attracting any unwanted attention." Weapons were   
distributed like pieces of candy. "We also don't have a lot of artillery,   
so don't waste what you use."  
  
Richter inserted the magazine with a click. "How are we split?" He reached   
a hand out towards Elspeth but she shook her head.  
  
"Me, Alan, and Invictus," she said. "You, Cass and John.  
  
"We can't protest this?" Mulder asked, watching the others jumping into   
action.  
  
Elspeth looked at the two newly-reunited FBI agents. "Do you really want   
to?" His lack of response gave her his answer. "Good." She motioned for   
Invictus to take the lead.  
  
"John, take your group that way," he said motioning towards the archway   
where they had first confronted Scully and her group. "Elspeth says that   
she saw some doors and tunnels branching off the main route. I'll take my   
group through the tunnels that lead toward the center of town--near the   
capitol building."  
  
Invictus spoke to Mulder and Scully now. "You two be careful. There's   
something vital that you two still need to do. I don't know what it is, but   
whatever the outcome, you two need to stay alive. Call it a gut feeling."  
  
"I feel it too," Elspeth murmured to no one but herself. She wandered   
ahead.  
  
"So is the Force telling you this, Invictus-Wan?" Mulder joked.  
  
"Ah, if only it were," he sighed. "I'd love to wave my hand and make all   
the bad guys fall down. But really, now that that's settled . . . C'mon,   
children. It's time to save mankind."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Cassidy, Richter, and John backtracked towards the lake, weaving through the   
fallen debris that littered the tunnels.  
  
"Nothing but crap," John muttered.  
  
Cassidy sniffed the musty air disdainfully. "Certainly smells like it."  
  
They pushed on but found nothing of interest. However, for the other group,   
the same could not be said.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Invictus carried a flashlight, shining the faint glow on the area ahead of   
them. Water dripped from the ceiling of the tunnels, producing a hollow,   
dungeon-like drip-drip echo.  
  
"So who are you really?" Alan asked Elspeth in an off-handed voice. She   
frowned and continue to move ahead, ignoring his question.  
  
"Hey, I asked you--"  
  
"Shut up you damn fool!" Invictus hissed at Alan. "You want to make it a   
little more obvious that we're here? Who knows who else is down here and   
what their intentions are. You want us to get killed, because I'll gladly   
let you take lead and at as our bullet shield."  
  
"Thank you," Elspeth muttered underneath her breath.  
  
Alan was immediately huffy. "I'm just looking out for our safety, *Curtis.*   
There are some people I'm still not sure I can trust."  
  
"You're lucky we didn't string you when you killed Dice!" Invictus snapped.  
  
Elspeth shushed them irritably with waves of her hand calling for silence.   
Reluctantly, both men turned from each other and progressed. Defiantly,   
Alan moved to take the lead, pulling the flashlight out of Invictus's hand.   
Elspeth glanced at him, but the blond man simply shrugged, continuing ahead   
and ceasing any valid argument he had.  
  
Into three more "rooms" they explored, finding nothing. Their hour was   
almost up, but when they were about to retreat with no results to their   
scouting mission, a clattering brought them to attention. The noises came   
from just beyond another darken entrance-way, crashing boxes and muffled   
voices. Quickly, the three of them rushed for cover in the room, which   
appeared to be a cleaning-supply storage room. Huddling together, they   
strained to hear as two distinctly male voices seemed to come closer and   
become clearer.  
  
" . . . waste of time," one voice said unhappily.  
  
"Buck up, Marine," another voice replied. "There were sightings by the   
shore of people. It might be those rebels we're after."  
  
"Probably just troublemakers. Really, Rae, do you honestly believe that   
*the* Mulder and Scully are in Madison, Wisconsin of all places?" He   
snorted. "I heard that one or both of them were dead. And what about that   
woman the Doc is looking for? The hybrid?"  
  
"It's highly possible that any of them might be here. We had them in   
Chicago, O'Conner. Remember that we had them once. We'll get them again."  
  
O'Conner picked up a piece of cardboard and then tossed it back down at his   
feet. "She would have to be a complete moron to come here knowing what will   
happen to her if they catch her. Hell, Rae, if I were here, I'd haul-ass in   
the other direction and never look back."  
  
"You didn't read the fucking file on her, did you, O'Conner? Jesus H.   
Christ!"  
  
"What?" the other protested, pouting like a little boy who had been sent to   
his room. "I read it."  
  
"Yeah, sure you did." There was a shift in tone. "She's one of those   
rebels. First page, paragraph three. Leader of Phoenix group." The man   
called Rae's voice grew higher. "Operating out of Madison."  
  
"Is that supposed to mean something?" the other asked defensively.  
  
"Why are you such a moron, O'Conner?"  
  
"I've been spending too much time with you, that's why!" the other snapped.   
"Anyway--what was the name of that hybrid? Elizabeth? Embeth? Something   
weird like that?"  
  
"Elspeth Parr," the voice belonging to the man named Rae said distractedly.  
  
Elspeth stiffened, clenching her jaw so tightly it hurt, and as quickly   
Invictus reached out a calming hand, placing it on her shoulder. Alan's   
head swung accusingly towards her. "You!" Alan hissed, his tone indicating   
that he had already tried, convicted, and executed her in his mind.  
  
One of the two male voices suddenly tensed, growing loud. "Did you hear   
something, O'Conner?" it barked.  
  
Invictus swore silently and drew out his gun, immediately unlocking the   
safety. Alan did the same, his face hot red. Elspeth, without a firearm,   
grabbed for the nearest thing--a broom handle. Tense, they sat and waited,   
the voices getting louder and closer until footsteps and heavy breathing was   
heard in their room.  
  
Two large men entered the room, their guns drawn. They walked as if   
stepping around landmines, both surprisingly agile for their sizes.  
  
Then the inevitable happened. "Behind you, O'Conner!" Rae shouted, firing   
off a shot into an old bookshelf, splintering the thick wood in two. Before   
Alan had the chance to aim another shot was fired off straight into his   
direction, blowing a hole straight through his head. Blood and brains   
splattered, hitting a shocked Elspeth in the face. She blinked. "Two   
others, O'Conner!" Rae shouted again before either Elspeth or Invictus had a   
fraction of a second to react to Alan's sudden death.  
  
Numb, Elspeth crawled over to Alan's body, shielding herself from the debris   
that exploded around her like fireworks. Frantically-- blindly, she   
searched for Alan's gun, trying to fight off the fact that she was   
scavenging through his still-warm body. Invictus fired off another shot and   
she heard one of the men scream, shrill in his pain.  
  
A bullet whizzed by Invictus, grazing him across the cheek. Flinching back   
forcefully, he dropped himself to the ground and sat crouched. Dust was   
heavy in the air, obscuring what little visibility there was in the damp,   
underground caves. A curtain of silence fell between them as both sides   
waited to make the next move.  
  
Elspeth wiped nervously at her forehead, her mind sprinting off in multiple   
directions all at once. They couldn't let these men just go and spread word   
of their presence underground, but there was the risk that she and Invictus   
could not take them both out, and if what they said about her was true . . .  
  
The ground suddenly disappeared from below her and Elspeth crashed awkwardly   
onto the floor, gun flying from her grasp as a hand twisted like a vine   
around her ankle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the barrel of a gun   
directed towards her face. Her head fell back against the ground. She   
squeezed her eyes shut. They would not take her. They would not take her   
alive . . .  
  
"Don't shoot her!" a Rae cried out suddenly, stumbling towards his fallen   
partner. Seeing movement, he trained his gun back towards where Invictus   
hid. "Move and I'll kill her, I swear to God."  
  
Invictus could not suppress a roll of his eyes. Obviously it did not occur   
to Rae that he had just contradicted himself, but Invictus remained still   
for the time being. There was no purpose in risking both of their lives in   
a last, suicidal attempt of rescue.  
  
Supine on the ground, Elspeth waited with baited breath as the footsteps   
came nearer and nearer. She was motionless except for the flex of her   
fingertips. She had to think of some way to distract or dispose of the Rae   
and O'Conner to buy Invictus enough time to escape and bring warning to the   
others. She gritted her teeth. They had gotten so far. To lose it all now   
was unacceptable. It no longer mattered if she lived or died. Elspeth was   
certain now of what she was. She swallowed hard and thought fleetingly of   
Richter. Of course, she thought angrily, the rage masking her wounded   
heart, of course this is how it would turn out. The die had been cast and   
she would come out the loser--but she would not let the others share her   
fate. Not if she could help it. Elspeth stretched out her fingers again   
and was surprised to feel something very real and very solid in her hand.   
The broom. A false sense of relief flooded her. No, she could not swing it   
at him. He would see the movement and shoot her without hesitation. Or   
else his friend would get her first. She cringed. But maybe this was the   
opportunity she needed--and the chance that Invictus had to get out.   
Slowly, she pulled the broken broom handle into her palm. No, she would not   
swing it at him. She didn't have the arm strength to bring it up fast   
enough to surprise him. She would have to throw it like a javelin at him.   
As for his friend . . .  
  
"What a coincidence," Rae said mildly. "We were just talking about you, Ms.   
Parr."  
  
Elspeth did not respond, although a sarcastic comment hung dangerously on   
her lips. She cast a quick glance towards Invictus. She just hoped he knew   
what to do when the time came. Rae was almost directly over her, his   
pompous swagger causing his progress to slow.  
  
"Sometimes, O'Conner, this job is just too easy."  
  
When he looked to his injured partner, Elspeth took the split-second   
opportunity and made her move. Roughly she pulled the leg that was held by   
O'Conner towards her, pulling him in. Crossing one leg over the other, she   
crashed the heel of her heavy boot into his head. Confusion on that end,   
she twisted her body upwards and hurled the broom handle into Rae's stomach.   
He crippled over in pain as the wooden stick struck him in the groin.  
  
"GO" she screamed, but Invictus paid no heed to her order. A carefully   
aimed shot--one he had trained on Rae for the entire time of the man's   
distraction with Elspeth, exploded from the gun and tore into the   
ex-Marine's back. He howled like a beast out of hell, falling but not   
dying.  
  
O'Conner, recovering from the blow to his head, reached out, bleeding and   
moaning, for his gun. Still on the ground, Elspeth swung her legs again and   
knocked him back down towards the ground. She then fumbled around in the   
dark, searching through the grime. Then she felt it, pulled it up quickly,   
firing off three rounds into O'Conner who finally fell heavy and dead.  
  
Now that Elspeth had moved out of his line of fire, Invictus took the   
initiative and fired again at his enemy. Like a scene out of a bad action   
movie, the body fell in a splatter of blood, flinging more dust into the   
air.  
  
As the dust settled from the fallen bodies, Elspeth fought off nausea and   
the flood of dizziness that rushed into her head. Forcing a sneer to fend   
off any sign of vulnerability that could betray her--the only face she could   
make without falling apart, she stood up deliberately. She walked over to   
Invictus.  
  
"We need to get that checked out," she said, indicating the bleeding gash on   
his face. He touched it absentmindedly. "It could get infected."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm fine, really." Then his eyes wandered over to   
where Alan's body lay. They flickered a moment before he turned back to   
her. "He's . . . ?" She sighed and nodded, touching her upper lip. She   
had tasted blood, and realized a split-second that it was not her own. She   
turned her gaze away from where Alan's body lay and shuddered involuntarily.  
  
"Elspeth . . ." Invictus started with a gulp. His eyes darkened as he   
seemed to search for the right words. Roughly, he grabbed her arm. "Who .   
. . what are you?" he finally spat out.  
  
She felt her muscles twitch in her face. Then she turned away from him,   
ignoring the question. Instead, she walked away towards where the bodies of   
Rae and O'Conner lay. Coldly, she lifted the gun and fired a neat round   
into each body.  
  
Invictus jumped. "Jesus Christ!" he shouted, stumbling backwards in   
surprise. He tried to compose himself quickly. As he did, he pushed   
through the mess on the floor towards her. When he reached her, she grabbed   
her by the arm. Invictus and Elspeth locked eyes. He looked at her,   
radiating new-found suspicion. His gaze was met with a dangerous flash of   
her eyes, no doubt a warning to him to back off. But Invictus had seen so   
much and survived so much that it was little matter to him what she thought.  
  
"Elspeth," he persisted, shaking her, "what the hell is going on? Why were   
those two talking about you? What are you hiding?"  
  
She ripped her arm from his grip and stalked away angrily. "The others,"   
she muttered as she paced back and forth like a caged animal. "We have to   
warn the others. Someone's bound to have heard those gunshots so they know   
we're down here now. We have to get the hell out of here." She was talking   
to herself, then looking up, snapped back to reality, she turned towards the   
other doorway and began to walk there, and eventually began to run, leaving   
Invictus standing alone with three corpses and countless questions.  
  
"Elspeth!" he screamed as she disappeared into the darkness. "Elspeth!" He   
balled his hands into two fists. Then cursing viciously to himself one last   
time he moved towards Alan's body to check if he really was, indeed, dead.   
The truth acknowledged, he let the wave of pity and frustration surge   
through him. He shook his head again, gritting his teeth. Drawing in a   
deep breath, sucking in the damp air, he muttered to himself, "Why do I feel   
like we're just making all of this up as we go?" and broke into a sprint   
after Elspeth and back to the camp. 


	16. Chapter 15

Part 15  
  
Mulder watched the two groups leave, Scully still quasi-sitting in his lap.  
  
  
They sat in silence as their friends footsteps retreated into stillness.  
  
"Scully…" Mulder finally whispered, dropping his head to her shoulder.  
  
"I know," she said, looping her arm up to hold the back of his head to her,  
"I do."  
  
They stayed that way for minutes, breathing in the essence of one another's  
long absent company. Finally, Mulder spoke, his voice muffled somewhat by  
it's proximity to her shoulder.  
  
"Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" He asked, and finally  
raised his head, searching out her eyes, "because I do.  
  
"I remember, Scully," he went on, "and it's the only moment that I've  
*ever* spent with you that I'd rather forget."  
  
She looked at him sympathetically and nodded. He continued.   
  
"After I remembered-after the amnesia-it was the last moment that I'd had  
with you. It was the only thing I had to go on, …. I remember what that was  
like Scully, and I never want to go through that again."  
  
Scully closed her eyes for a moment and thought back to the last time she'd  
seen Mulder before he'd disappeared and colonization had begun.  
  
They'd had an argument, based on the deep-seated issue of belief-the only  
issue, if anything, that had continually kept them apart.  
  
"Is it *so* hard to believe, Scully, is it *that* difficult to open your  
mind a *fraction* and accept that it *might* be possible?" he'd asked.  
  
He'd been angry. More upset than normal, too angry for his usual air of  
indifference that he'd exude when he was upset. He'd stressed certain  
words, and that vein on his left temple had been sticking out.  
  
She'd forgotten the actual subject of the argument. At that point though,  
it hadn't really mattered. They were back at square one, where everything  
came down to when it concerned them. Belief. Or lack thereof.  
  
"Yes, actually, Mulder," she'd said, "it is."   
  
He'd clenched his jaw and stared at her, daring her to continue. So she  
did.  
  
"Mulder," she said, "honestly. The way your mind works transcends the ages.  
It's childlike and feeble at the same time."  
  
"What?" He'd nearly spat.  
  
"The things you believe in, Mulder. Concepts easily grasped by children and  
old people-because kids haven't yet found reason not to believe, and the  
venerable have every reason *to* believe."  
  
She hadn't meant the statement as a derogatory one, but he'd taken it that  
way nonetheless.   
  
He'd gotten really upset at that point and had grown very silent. A staring  
contest ensued that had been interrupted by the ringing of the phone.   
  
He'd answered it quickly, and after a few short exchanges, he'd hung up,  
grabbed his coat and left. But not before he stopped in the doorway and  
looked at her with disdain.  
  
"I'm leaving," he'd said.  
  
"I can see that," she'd replied in a clipped, icy tone. "Where?"  
  
He'd given her a huff of breath and a smart grin and said, "You wouldn't  
believe me if I told you."   
  
And that was the last that she'd seen him.   
  
In the time after his disappearance and the colonization, she'd often  
thought back to that day. And the two worlds-one she'd believed in, and the  
one in which she now lived-still warred with each other.  
  
Sometimes she'd wondered why he believed in the things he did. Sometimes  
she'd wondered why she didn't.  
  
His rumbled words behind her shook her out of her reverie.  
  
"I don't want to go back there again, Scully," he said, giving her middle a  
slight squeeze, "ever."  
  
He paused a moment.  
  
"I want things to be different."  
  
She didn't respond at that point. She merely twisted around a little and  
grabbed his head in her two hands. She planted a firm kiss on his lips, and  
another on his forehead. They looked at one another for a few moments and  
she leaned in for another kiss. When she pulled away, his lips tried to  
follow.   
  
She smiled at him and ran her fingers through the hair on his face.  
  
"Come on," she said, scooting backward a bit and reaching for his hand,  
"help me up."  
  
He obliged and asked, "Where are we going?"  
  
"To the table," she replied, "I need you to help wrap my ankle a little  
better, and we have things to talk about."  
  
He paused a moment to take one more reverent eyeful, then stooped to grab  
his backpack with the first aid kit in it and finally helped her to the  
table.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
John, Cass and Richter were making their way back to the room, their senses  
somewhat dulled by nearly an hour of no action and fruitless searching.  
  
"Chicago is gone?" Cass asked, her voice somewhat incredulous and louder  
than was probably wise.  
  
"Yes," Richter answered, "nearly all of it as far as I could tell."  
  
They'd been making nice with each other, John and Richter finding that  
they'd been in college at the same time and that their schools had played  
each other in various sporting events.  
  
"Jesus," John said quietly.  
  
"So we've gone from cows to extra-terrestrials… Talk about progress," Cass  
spoke.  
  
She took a few steps and stopped, holding her hand up, indicating to the  
other two men to do the same.  
  
John quietly moved up beside her, leaning his mouth in by her ear.  
  
"What is it?" he whispered.  
  
Cass made a walking movement with her fingers then pointed in the direction  
of the room, down the hallway.  
  
They were only a couple hundred yards from the door, and had been wondering  
how to intrude on Mulder and Scully without causing anyone any undue  
embarrassment.   
  
After a moment, both John and Richter heard it too, footsteps-but more like  
someone running-getting steadily closer.  
  
They nearly didn't have a time to draw their guns before Invictus and  
Elspeth tore around the corner at break-neck speed. Invictus pushed off  
from the wall as he made the turn, refusing to slow one bit.  
  
"What the…?" Richter said, then all three lowered their weapons and ran  
toward the two others only slowing and stopping when they met in front of  
their room's entrance.  
  
Mulder and Scully, sitting across from one another at the table, hands  
locked together, both looked up, surprised.  
  
Elspeth and Invictus both doubled over, leaning against their knees and the  
wall.  
  
"What…" Cass started, "What happened? Where's Alan?"  
  
"He didn't make it," Elspeth said, looking up between breaths.   
  
"You mean you ran into… but you got away?" Scully said, as she made her way  
to the doorway and the others slowly, held nearly all the way up by Mulder.  
  
Invictus nodded.  
  
"So we're going to have company?" Mulder asked gravely.  
  
Invictus nodded again.  
  
"And Alan…" Cass hedged.  
  
Invictus finally straightened, "You know how you said his head was usually  
so far up his ass that it you were surprised it was still sitting on top of  
his shoulders?"  
  
Cass looked at him strangely and nodded.  
  
"Well," Invictus said, "that's no longer going to be a problem."   
  
Elspeth unconsciously wiped at her face and clothes again where Alan's  
blood had spattered.  
  
Cass glanced at her and put her hand to the wall to steady herself.  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick," she said.  
  
"No time for that," Invictus said, moving to her and escorting her into the  
room, "gather everything together, we need to get out of here."  
  
"Now?" Scully said, glancing at her ankle in worry.  
  
"Yesterday," Invictus answered soberly.   
  
XxXxXxXxXxX  
  
Richter found it by accident.  
  
They'd been walking through the tunnels beneath Madison for hours and had  
finally decided to rest when Scully had let out a whimper that she'd been  
holding in for hours.   
  
They'd set down their gear at the end of one of the hallways that seemingly  
led to no where and hunkered down against the walls, sitting on the floor.  
Cass had offered to let Scully put her leg up onto her shoulders to ease  
the swelling a little, so Cass sat a little awkwardly on the floor and  
Scully put her head in Mulder's lap. He didn't seem to mind.  
  
Everyone else had grabbed something they'd been carrying and used it as a  
pillow to take a quick nap. Richter, the only one who couldn't lie down  
properly without hurting his arm, instead opted to lean against the wall  
with his good shoulder while sitting sideways on his legs.  
  
The position however, was so awkward that when he finally made his way to  
the ground, inertia and gravity took over and jammed his good shoulder into  
the wall forcefully.  
  
But instead of jarring him, the wall gave in several inches and he nearly  
fell the rest of the way into what appeared before them now as an open door  
way. He found himself on his back looking up, upside down at a lighted  
staircase.  
  
"Buddy?" He heard Invictus say from the hallway.  
  
He gingerly sat up and faced the rest of the group who hadn't moved from  
their prone positions, but were all looking in his direction curiously.   
  
"Stairs," he said, adjusting his makeshift sling a little so that it didn't  
dig into his side as much, "I think I found some stairs."  
  
"Can you see where they go?" Mulder asked, putting his arm around Scully's  
middle and boosting her up a little bit.  
  
Richter had been irritated with Mulder for no reason ever since they'd  
found him, and while he couldn't explain to himself why, he harbored  
resentment just the same.  
  
"Up," he said, infusing his words with a biting sarcasm, "they go up."  
  
Mulder ignored it.  
  
Scully didn't.  
  
"Richter?" She edged. "Is your arm bothering you? We do have a couple more  
aspirin."  
  
Richter relented and immediately felt a little guilty for snapping. He  
twisted his head a little and looked up into the stairway.   
  
"I think it's a… I don't know what is," he said, squinting, "it looks like  
a friggin museum."  
  
He turned back to the group.   
  
"The ceiling does, anyway."  
  
Invictus frowned a little and got up, his knees cracking as he stood.  
  
Curiosity got the best of him, and he drew his weapon, moving up the stairs  
slowly.  
  
When he got to the top, he didn't lower his gun, but some of the tension  
drained visibly from his shoulders.  
  
"Well I'll be damned." He muttered quietly to himself.  
  
XxXxXxXxXxX   
  
What Richter had discovered wasn't a museum, not in the classical sense,  
anyway.  
  
Scully mused that by today's standards the label wasn't exactly a stretch.  
  
What he'd found, was instead, the general assembly hall of the Wisconsin  
State Capitol building.  
  
The tables and chairs that had been used in the general assembly had been  
pushed to the sides of the great room, and stacked somewhat neatly along  
the walls. There was, in place of those desks, a large collapsible table  
strewn with maps, charts, geothermal readouts and various other papers of  
the sort. A huge skylight opened up the ceiling, bathing them in light for the   
first time in a long time. And however faint the light was, to them it seemed blinding,  
as though they had just emerged from a long hibernation. To some of them, it was  
exactly how they felt--both physically and mentally.  
  
Upon inspection of the readouts, the group found that they were mostly of  
the east coast, and the southern west coast of the United States.  
  
"We've just walked into the middle of enemy camp," Mulder said slack-jawed,   
his eyes scanning the room up, down, left, and right.   
  
"Then it's stupid to stay here," Richter concluded. "We don't know if this place   
is being monitored, or if someone's going to come back any second and full us up  
with some fresh rounds of ammunition. I'm in no mood to stay. I don't know about  
the rest of you."  
  
"Time to move the party elsewhere," Invictus agreed. "But where to?"  
  
A strange look crossed Elspeth's face and before she, or anyone else could   
say another word, she had hurdled over broken chairs and tables and had headed   
towards what appeared to be the governor's seat at the head of the assembly. She   
pointed up to the three-paneled mural that stood out prominently against the wall.   
"This signifies past, present, and future," she told them, moving her hand across from   
each picture to the next. She frowned and muttered something about symbolism or   
parallelism and then said, "Though I fail to see where colonization is being represented,   
though." Seeing their confused looks, she elaborated. "Learned it on a campus tour   
back when I went to school here," she said with a shrug. "Don't ask me who painted it,   
though."  
  
Richter was the first one to start after her, the others following suit after him, but   
when they were by all up there, they only stood and watched Elspeth as she pushed   
and shoved against the oak chair and desk, dropping on her knees and feeling for   
something, though none of them knew what. "It's here somewhere," she muttered,   
concentrated on her own efforts. A few, futile more seconds elapsed and she stood up,   
face twisted in consternation of herself. "I swear . . ." she muttered and suddenly, stopped   
in mid-sentence as something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She   
laughed. "Well I be damned." Reaching back behind a tall, white marble column, her  
hand disappeared, and then the rest of her followed.   
  
"Secret passage," Mulder remarked without a hint of surprise.   
  
"Let me guess," Scully said as she hobbled with help, through the passageway, "this leads   
to a secret bedroom."  
  
"A governor's gotta have his mistresses too," Invictus said matter-of-factly. "Can't let the  
presidents have all the fun."  
  
"No, you certainly can't," Mulder noted wryly. "That's one thing I think both parties  
can agree upon."  
  
XxXxXxXxXxXx  
  
It turned out that it wasn't a secret bedroom, but the governor's private office. Wisconsin  
state memorabilia littered shelves, ranging from Packers autographed football helmet  
to a different sort of headgear in the form of a wedge of cheese.  
  
"Charming," John muttered as he stalked the room, surveying it for anything unexpected.  
  
There was not much of note in the room, but it proved to be the refuge they needed at the  
time. Naturally, many of them split up in pairs. Cassidy and John. Richter and Elspeth, and  
of course, Mulder and Scully. As each thought of this, the names--the idea seem to roll off  
so naturally it seemed as though they had never parted. Leaning against each other,  
Mulder especially tender to the injured Scully, they drifted off into half-thought and half-sleep.  
  
In the meanwhile, Invictus left without someone to act as his "better half" found company  
with a bronze statue of a badger, the Wisconsin state animal. Out of one eye, Mulder  
noted that his friend was carrying on a rather heated conversation with the decidedly  
mute and inanimate badger. He wasn't sure if Invictus was going completely mad, just bored,   
or a little bit of both. Or if he knew something the rest of them didn't. He sighed heavily  
and turned his attention away from Invictus to Scully who was snuggled contentedly  
in the crook of his arm. He brushed away some hair that had fallen in her eyes and smiled  
faintly. If things could be like this after all this was over, he swore to himself then as he  
gazed at this beautiful woman before him, he resolved that he would do anything to make   
it that there *was* an "after" to look forward to.   
  
There was a shift in the stillness of the room, and all eyes rose to lift towards Invictus  
who had given up on his conversation with the bronze badger to advance upon  
Richter and Elspeth who rested together in the folds of a window curtain. There was  
some whispering amongst the three which finally resulted in Richter getting up to  
leave the other two to a private conversation.  
  
The dark-haired man, still a mystery even to Scully who had spent practically every  
waking moment with him since fleeing Rhode Island, roamed restlessly around the  
large room. Scully stirred closer to consciousness in his arms, but Mulder's  
attention remained trained on Richter McLachlan. Scully had related to him as  
much as she could have about her experiences in the time they had had together  
since being reunited, so Mulder knew the bare facts about Richter and Elspeth   
Parr. The same went for Scully and her knowledge of Invictus, John, Cassidy,  
and Alan.  
  
He was like a lion in a cage, Mulder thought to himself, still watching  
Richter pace, and he certainly possessed the fierceness in his face to  
match that of the king of the beasts, he amended. It didn't seem so much  
nervousness that colored his body language but fear. His eyes constantly  
strayed towards Elspeth and Invictus and Mulder could not help but wonder  
to the nature of that conversation.  
  
At one point, it was not Elspeth or Invictus' eye that Richter caught, but   
rather, it was Mulder's. Mulder gave him a sympathetic smile but got in  
return a scowl. He didn't allow himself to think before he acted and the words  
just came out of his mouth.   
  
"What?" he spat angrily. Richter, a passive look on his face, began his  
way over to where Mulder and Scully sat.   
  
"What?" Richter echoed coolly, using his standing advantage to stare down  
disdainfully at Mulder. "What do you think."  
  
"What have I done to wrong you?" Mulder hissed, trying not to disturb Scully  
who had drifted back into sleep. "I barely know you. I don't understand   
what warrants this hostility towards me. Do you care to explain? Because I would  
be really interested in knowing."  
  
Richter shifted his injured arm. He licked his lips, dried and cracked from over-  
exposure to the elements. "I understand that this is a group effort," he began  
calmly, his voice flat and without any hints of emotion.  
  
"So you don't think I'm doing enough--" Mulder began tersely.  
  
"Let me finish," Richter continued, annoyance flashing in his face. "This is   
obviously a group effort, and yes, I am wondering what you have done thus  
far, but that's not the issue. I'm . . . curious. I'm curious as to what you intend  
on doing, and why," he said with a sweep of his good arm, "why everyone  
seems to hold you in this strange reverence. Why they say things like 'he's  
the one' as though you were some hero out of some bad science-fiction movie.  
Tell me, Mulder," letting his name shoot out of his mouth like a bad taste, "tell  
me why this is so. Give me a reason to trust you."  
  
"Mulder?" Scully suddenly said sleepily, her eyes blinking open.  
  
"Shh," Mulder soothed, glaring at Richter. "You don't trust me?" he said finally.  
  
"Please," he said irritably, "give me a better answer than that."  
  
"I'm not casting any illusions, Richter. I didn't make them believe anything about me.  
They believed these things on their own, with or without me, and even before they  
had even met me. I don't claim to understand . . . or maybe I just don't remember."  
  
"That's your excuse?"  
  
"This is ridiculous! Utterly and completely ridiculous. You're a grown man and   
this isn't--"  
  
Harsh voices coming from Elspeth and Invictus momentarily distracted both of  
them from their argument. Scully also woke up to the noise and watched with  
a confused and horrified look all at once. John, who apparently had been awake  
for a while and had been doing more checks on the room, also turned his   
attention towards the source of the noise. They all watched on. Elspeth gestured   
angrily but Invictus did not relent, physically pressing his issue as he confronted   
her.  
  
Richter looked torn, unsure whether or not to continue his argument with Mulder  
or to go to Elspeth. But it was John Baxter who made the decision for all of them.  
  
"Shut up!" he growled, his head swiveling left and right and up and down. His  
gun immediately appeared and he raised it cautiously. "I heard something, out   
in the hallway," he said, pointing his gun towards door that had been flung ajar  
by someone else, some time ago. All arguments, disagreements were immediately  
dropped and the companions readied themselves and fell in line behind him.  
  
John stood, poised in the doorway, the rest of the group nearly crowded  
around. There were more sounds, loud ones and quieter ones, and they all   
seemed to be coming from a room adjacent to the one they had just left. This  
door was also open and from first glance, it appeared empty, but the ruckus  
seemed to imply otherwise.  
  
John, gun raised, scanned the room from left to right. He paused a moment,  
and just as Cass opened her mouth to suggest they move forward, they heard  
a shuffle from inside the room, and a head and body came up from behind a  
counter in the room, facing the other direction and completely oblivious to  
their presence.   
  
John waited a moment and then cleared his throat saying, "you move one  
inch, and you'll look more like a pincushion than yourself when they bury  
you."  
  
The figure froze, his arms at his sides.  
  
"Turn around," John said in a dangerous voice, "slowly."  
  
The man did so, and as he faced the group, Mulder and Scully were the only  
two people that had any sort of reaction.  
  
They were taken aback momentarily, and then, in the same instant, both  
exclaimed.  
  
"Frohike?"  
  
End part 15 


	17. Chapter 16

**********************************  
Manifest Destiny Part 16  
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin Mickeys  
**********************************  
  
  
Three perfect O's formed on Frohike's face as he stared dumbfounded at the   
group before him. His eyes strayed around the room, but finally came to rest  
upon Scully's face.  
  
"I must be dead," he said in a whisper, "because I see an angel." Then a beat   
later he turned his attention to Mulder who stood next to Scully. He pursed his   
lips and scratched at the scraggly beard on his face. "But Mulder's here . . . I   
gotta be hallucinating or something. Dammit."  
  
"You know this furry little man?" John asked, prodding him on the chest over   
a filthy, but distinctively Frohike-signature vest. Protectively, Frohike's hands   
flew up and knocked John's away disgustedly.  
  
"No respect among the young anymore," he grumbled, ignoring John as he   
brushed brusquely past him towards Mulder and Scully. He looked at his old   
friends, a wave of amusement as well as relief washing over his familiar face   
that almost masked the deep lines of despair and fear that marked his flesh.   
He let out a deep breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding.   
"Small world."  
  
Mulder reached out and clasped his friend in his arms.  
  
Frohike gasped. "And getting smaller, Mulder. Geez, let go!" Mulder   
released the Lone Gunman from his grasp and chuckled to himself. Frohike   
brushed himself off disdainfully. "Hey Scully, don't I get a hug, too?"  
  
Scully smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. "I think   
Mulder gave you enough for both of us," she said dryly, but seeing his face   
fall, an exaggerated expression or not, she softened. "Oh, what the hell."   
When Scully released him, Frohike smiled dreamily and sunk into a   
seat on pile of debris. He sighed happily, oblivious to the seven pairs of   
eyes that watched his every move. The others watched in great interest as they  
automatically split apart and created a circle.   
  
"Where are your cohorts, Frohike?" Mulder asked as he paced in a circle. "Are   
they behind door number two?"  
  
Frohike jerked his head up and gazed evenly at Mulder who shuddered   
involuntarily at the ghostly look in his eyes. His arms wrapped around his   
small body and he rocked gently in his spot, suddenly very far away.  
  
"Frohike?" Scully's voice was filled with concern. She reached out and   
touched him on the shoulder.  
  
"Byers--he's ok, last I saw him. Actually, he's probably still with Suzanne   
Modeski. Lucky bastard." A gulp. "Considering..."  
  
"Who--" she began, but Mulder's surprise quickly cut her off.  
  
"Modeski...she's...oh wow!" Mulder exclaimed, pulling on his face, cheeks, nose   
and dropped jaw. "Before you and I became partners, Scully..."  
  
Frohike raised his hands and gestured for Mulder to stop. "You've actually   
met her, or were in the same building, Scully. Um," he hitched, looking   
away from her, "you were a little out of it then. But that was then--this   
is now.  
  
"To make a long story short," he continued, "she was a chemist that some   
government goons were after a long while ago. Well, after, after the   
invasion Byers went batty. Not like you, Mulder, but 'the aliens have invaded'   
crazy. Langley," his voice choked on the name, "and I had to tie him down at one   
point, and then he began to rant and rave about finding Suzanne. We tried to   
dissuade him, but there was no getting around him. He got out of the restraints   
and took off. We followed his trail and finally found him in Arizona--and I'll be   
damned, he had found her."  
  
He stopped and took a deep breath of the stale underground air. "You guys   
got any water? I'm parched." Cassidy pulled out a small flask she had   
tucked under her coat and handed it to Frohike. "Thanks." He took a big   
gulp and let the liquid trickle slowly down his throat, savoring each   
molecule.  
  
Suspicion crept into her mind and fear crept into her heart. Scully inched closer.   
"Frohike, where's Langley?" she asked quietly, afraid to hear   
the answer. Frohike glanced up at her, all the light gone from his eyes.   
She knew the answer before he said it.  
  
A pregnant pause touched there air and he answered at last in a quick , simple tone,   
"He's dead."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Frohike," Scully said gently. "I'm so sorry."   
  
"What...what happened?" Mulder ventured, the pain apparent in his face,   
slack and numb from surprise.  
  
Neither Mulder or Scully had ever seen Frohike so unanimated; so gray and   
somber. He was a ghost trapped in a man's body with nothing on his mind but   
rest, and the change shook all those in the room.  
  
"We were following a lead up here. Suzanne and some of the people she was   
with, they talked about a vaccine that some scientists had been   
developing--former members of 'The Project' that had defected when they got   
scared by the idea of actual colonization in their lifetimes. The story   
goes that by using the data they had on the aliens, they formulated a   
vaccine that made it impossible, or at least difficult, for human biology to   
be compatible with the alien life--that," he swallowed hard, eyes behind his   
dirtied glasses darting nervously around from face to face, "that the   
biochemical reaction would kill the invading parasite and make it impossible   
for human beings to be used as hosts."  
  
Invictus whistled. "So we were right about that. Damn."  
  
"We're dirt to them," Cassidy said blankly. "Dirt." She shook her   
head, still unable to grasp the reality of what they had all known long ago   
but never spoke about.  
  
"We heard that the research had been going on at the University of   
Wisconsin, so Langley and I headed up here while Byers stayed with Suzanne   
on finding more information." Frohike shrugged. "It wasn't anything   
concrete at the time, but it was a possible lead, and anything was worth our   
time at that point." He looked up, his face pleading for understanding that   
they would not have refused him for the world, but the guilt that ate away   
inside him, dismantling him like a virus, did not allot him that luxury. He   
could not believe that his friend's death was anything short of his fault.   
"We were so desperate then."  
  
"We all were," Elspeth said gently. "We all still are, and things will happen   
that we can't forecast, and we'll make mistakes that we regret, that we   
wish we could go back and fix, but we can't do that. We can only try and   
move on and repair the damage. We have to push on. We have to or else . . .   
what the hell's the point?" Then sighing, she sunk back against the wall.  
  
Frohike looked at her thankfully and continued on. "We got here a few weeks   
later, and um," he paused and chewed on a fingernail. "We got here and this place  
was like a wartime encampment. The whole *fucking* place was swarming with troops  
day and night. People were either dead or running the hell out of this place.  
  
"Langley and I hid out in the Oscar Meyer factory for a while." He cringed as he said   
this, remembering the stink of stale factory air and rotting meat. "With all the activity   
going on it took us a while to get to downtown Madison where most of the action was   
going on. We heard some crazy shit--most of it from people we overheard. Some of them  
military, some just poor bastards like the rest of us. It was mostly 'aliens!' and hysteria. Lots  
of blubbering and crying, but when we really listened, I mean really listened . . ."  
  
"You don't have to tell us all of this now if you don't want to," Scully said gently. "If you   
need to rest first or get some food."  
  
"No, no." He shook his head adamantly. "If I don't tell you this now, I don't think I   
could do it again later." He glanced around at the group darkly. "And I don't know   
if all of you are going to be here later on. So this has to be said now."  
  
Richter, still thus far, suddenly stalked across the room to where Elspeth sat,  
propped up against the wall. She gazed up at him and took his rough hand in   
hers. They held fast to each other. Then he looked at the others and made  
a movement with his head that seemed to tell them to ignore him. Frohike  
continued, his tale weaving erratic and emotional until he came to the part   
that he had been dreading all along--to the graveyard of his story where he  
had to kill and bury his comrade.  
  
"We had been hiding out in the library. Hackers amongst the institutional green  
of the library stacks," Frohike snorted. "We couldn't believe it. Those military idiots   
were still using computers to process a lot of their data and Langley and I  
just used the computers in the library to hack into their database." He cleared  
his throat again and begged for another drink of water before he went on.  
"Some of the stuff we more or less knew already. It was pretty much set that  
vaccine was for real--or at least that something like it existed and it was being  
safeguarded here at the capitol building. There were some other files that we   
got into that we thought were pretty fascinating."  
  
His voice abruptly dropped, so quiet that many of them had to strain to hear   
what he was saying. "We thought they wouldn't notice our hacking. I mean,  
who's gonna hack in times like these?" His words were coming faster and faster,  
slurring one into another. "Not that we didn't take some safeguards. We did, but--  
but they weren't enough. Not damn enough. They broke through the glass windows  
on the first floor and when we saw it we ran, but Langley couldn't find cover in time."  
There was a catch in his throat now and he finished. "I found my way downstairs  
somehow and I hid underneath a giant 'Cat in the Hat' paper maché display." He broke  
into a small sob. "I was the scardy-cat in the hat and Langley was just dead.  
And I wasn't."  
  
"Oh, Frohike . . ." Scully felt her heart breaking with him as she went to kneel before him,   
placing her head on his shoulder and grieving with him. "It's not your fault." Mulder   
then came and held both of them in his strong, capable arms.   
  
The sobs soon subsided and Frohike was calm and a little embarrassed, but he   
recovered his composure remarkably, as though finally admitting his feelings of guilt  
over his friend's death had removed a huge weight from his heart. He continued on  
with his narrative, the deadness fading from his eyes.  
  
"Of the 'other' things we discovered. Mulder, you might know something about this,"   
he said looking up. "Hybrids."  
  
Scully automatically whipped her head to look over at Elspeth and noticed with  
much astoundment, that Invictus had done the same. Elspeth's made no   
acknowledgment of them, though. She stared straight ahead, eyes hard and cold.  
Next to hear, Richter had bowed his head, a storm brewing in his heart.  
  
"Yeah. Cassandra Spender--"  
  
"And Antioch," Richter chimed in, tonal and haunting like the dying strains of a  
church organ.  
  
"Yeah. Well, with what I read of the reports, the facts seem to imply that the   
vaccine isn't fool-proof."  
  
"What do you mean?" Invictus queried.  
  
"It seems that human/alien hybrids are immune to the vaccine."  
  
"You mean it doesn't work," Invictus concluded. "Hybrids can't be protected?"  
  
"Yes. Which means that colonization could continue and actually speed up if a  
hybrid is found."  
  
"But weren't they all destroyed at Antioch?" John asked incredulously. "There  
aren't any left, and if there were, how could colonization actually speed up? There  
can't possibly be enough hosts to accommodate--"  
  
"They have the technology to clone," Frohike broke in. "And they can do that quickly  
at that."  
  
"And incubation period is short," Mulder said, moving protectively to Scully's side,   
remembering the arctic; remembering her face encased behind the glass, her body   
floating so helplessly in green ooze. Mulder suddenly started, this memory triggering  
a realization that contorted his face in half-shock and half-pain. "Is that--" he stammered,  
  
"Is that why I . . . why we . . .you guys think . . ."  
  
Invictus clapped his hands together and laughed. Remembering that a loud noise of any  
kind might attract the wrong kind of attention, he immediately clamped his hand over his  
mouth and chuckled. "He finally remembers!" he smirked.  
  
Mulder frowned. "More like I just figured it out," he mumbled.  
  
"Mulder and I are already immune," Scully said breathlessly, catching on to the fact that  
she had also been unaware of until now.  
  
"Bingo," Invictus said. "And you've both have faced off against the aliens before. You  
know how to fight them."  
  
"Not exactly," Mulder disagreed.  
  
"Better than we do," John said. "To a lot of us, they're still a faceless enemy."  
  
Mulder scratched at his beard and considered the new implications. He shook his head,  
the information too much to process at the time. "Frohike, go on," he finally said with a  
motion of his head. Leaning up against Scully who held him tightly, he lapsed into silence  
along with the others to hear the remainder of what Frohike had to tell them.  
  
"The vaccine should keep us safe, but the margin for failure is still huge. The first scenario   
is that we don't get the vaccine, or, if it doesn't work. Then we're good as dead. The   
other scenario is if they military finds a hybrid and is able to harvest the DNA necessary   
to begin cloning. Then it's search and destroy--or die."  
  
As his narrative had progressed, Scully had involuntarily found her line of sight going  
back to Elspeth. And with each glance, she become only more aware of the implications,  
and of how snow-white pale Elspeth was fast becoming.   
  
Since their reunion, Mulder had only become more in synch with Scully, so it was not  
more than a few seconds after she had tensed that he became aware of her discomfort.  
The others had immediately become engaged in discussion after Frohike had finished,  
but amidst the buzz, Mulder had naturally focused in on Scully's every tick.  
  
"What's wrong?" he whispered conspiratorially, trying to keep his tone light to not  
darken the situation any further.  
  
Scully opened her lips to answer, but words failed her. She tried to gesture, her chapped  
hands reaching up and then down, and then forward but finding no direction in the end.  
He reached towards her and put an arm around her reassuringly, but only frustration and  
indecision filled her normally pragmatic mind. There was a needed silence between her  
and Mulder, and in those brief moments, she let the thousand of thoughts flitted through  
her mind. The scene in front of her became mute, and the edges of the image blurred to   
where should could only see Elspeth--Elspeth slumped and weary. Elspeth getting up  
from Richter's side to speak to Invictus. Inaudible whispers with huge repercussions,   
but none that she could hear.   
  
Mulder squeezed her shoulder as she leaned a little more into him, letting the comfort  
of his closeness infuse in her some much-needed strength. Strength that she would need,  
because regardless of the trust, respect, and faith she had in this strange woman who had  
been thrust into their lives what seemed like only a short time ago, there were things   
Scully knew--and they were more important than the life of one person when the rest of  
the world was at stake. Breathing from what felt like the bottom of her belly, Scully   
took a step away from Mulder and let the words form in her mind; let her tongue loosen,  
and prepared to speak and strike what could only be a blind-sided blow to Elspeth Parr.  
But the words had barely settled enough to even begin processing in her synapses when   
Invictus rose his hands in the air to quiet them all down. Yet he said nothing when quiet  
was obtained. Instead, he nodded his head towards Elspeth who nervously stepped to  
the center of the group, concentrating all her efforts into what she was going to say next.  
Scully bit her lip and waited.  
  
"Invictus and I have talked and we've come up with a *suggestion* for a course of action."  
She quick shot a glance at him, some private understanding passing that everyone caught  
but nobody knew the meaning of. "I think it doesn't even have to be said how imperative  
it is that we go get the vaccine as soon as humanly--" her voice caught on the word, but  
Scully and Mulder noticed it and cast each other a questioning glance. "As humanly  
possible."   
  
Then Elspeth's voice grew stronger, and she straightened herself so she   
seemed taller, and something strange and calm flashed in her eyes.  
"We have a plan." She then crouched to the ground and used her finger  
to begin drawing in the dirty. "And if you'll hear me out--I think we might just start  
getting somewhere."  
  
  
END PART 17 


	18. Chapter 17

**********************************  
  
Manifest Destiny Part 17  
  
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin Mickeys  
  
**********************************  
  
"No."  
  
"Hear me out--"  
  
"No! It's suicide! You're not going to do anything like that. I'm not going to let you."  
  
"You don't have veto power. And," she butt in quickly before he could say anything,  
  
"there's no one else who can do this. Everyone else who might be able to, is injured.  
  
Like you."  
  
Frown lines crossed his forehead as he turned away from the rest of the group. "There's  
  
got to be another plan, some other option . . ."  
  
"Richter . . ."  
  
A long, dead silence passed before Invictus mercifully broke in. "What we need is a  
  
distraction big enough to get as many of those troops out of there at the same time, and  
  
one big enough to give us the time we need to get in at least, and maybe get out, without  
  
having them return. As for short-term solutions—which is the only option we really have  
  
—this is probably the best bet." Nervous shuffling followed his explanation. Richter  
  
walked away, and there was more shuffling.  
  
Mulder and Scully did not even have to look at each other. The sense of awkwardness  
  
was mutual, mirror reflections in their eyes. Scully touched his hand, and he took it in  
  
his larger one, warm and once again familiar.  
  
***  
  
"This whole thing feels like a situation straight out of a sci-fi B- movie," he said, leaning  
  
down and muttering with that dry, growling voice of his.  
  
"Funny," she commented with equal indifference in her voice, "I thought the only movies  
  
you watched were the X kind."  
  
He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips despite their current situation which was like an  
  
omnious bolt of lightning in the sky. "You've got me there." He then leaned down and  
  
pressed his face against her cheek. "You sassy minx."  
  
Scully smiled despite herself, and reached an arm around his waist. "Hey."  
  
"Hey yourself."  
  
"Be careful, and I mean careful. Not Mulder-careful, that doesn't cut it, not this time.  
  
You need to come out this in once piece, if not for your own sake, for mine." She grew  
  
quiet, unaccustomed to her own frankness.  
  
"The same for you," he said softly.  
  
"Alright!" Invictus barked. "Time for the group huddle."  
  
Mulder and Scully broke apart and moved to join the circle in which Invictus and Elspeth  
  
stood in the middle. Scully reached for her gun, pulling it out of its holster. She unlocked  
  
the safety, then looked up at Mulder who did the same, grim determination obvious on his  
  
face.  
  
"Ok, a quick rehash of the plans to make sure that we're all on the same page. Elspeth here,  
  
will be off first while John, Cass, Mulder and I, will be over there," he said, quickly motioning  
  
to a pile of rubble adjacent to a doorway, "waiting until all is clear. Scully, you, Richter, and Mr.  
  
Frohike will be bunkered behind that fallen bit of ceiling over there to cover us when we go in."  
  
A wry smile crossed his face. "Easy peasy, don't you think?"  
  
"Very," Mulder remarked without a hint of sarcasm, though the look on his face said otherwise.  
  
"Times a-wasting."  
  
"That it is," Elspeth half-snarled, throwing a black hood over her dark hair. "Time to go and save the world, boys and girls." She quickly shot a look at Richter, who stared her dully. Disregarding his blindingly-obvious attempts at ignoring her, she would go over to him later after the group had broken up to try and mend things over, however fragile and tenuous this temporary peace of theirs might be.  
  
As they stole a last few moments together, Scully and Mulder did the same, huddled together, nose to nose. No words were exchanged, but they knew each other well enough to know what the other was probably thinking. They broke apart, and moved to their respective positions where immediately, they became aware of the cloud of absence that stood between them, something that they both hoped to evaporate upon the other's return.  
  
***  
  
"I'm not liking this so much."  
  
Scully waited for Invictus' signal and Elspeth's acknowledgment from her position on an upper tier before she responded. She shifted her position, her ankle aching. "I don't like this much either, Frohike, but what else can we do?" Her gun found a sweet spot behind the cracked concrete shield and she aimed it acordingly.  
  
"I know," he grumbled. "I wish there was more I could do. Guns really aren't my style." He raised his awkwardly to illustrate.  
  
Above them, Elspeth nodded slightly and motioned that she was ready. By force of effort,  
  
she did not look back. She did not look down to see Richter, for this one time only, his heart  
  
full in his blue eyes, dark and sad. However, she thought of him, and of basically everything  
  
her life had consisted of these last few months. Heavy sighs were her only company now,  
  
and she took another as she poised her gun and fired.  
  
"Hey!" she screamed. "I got a question for ya about a helicopter!"  
  
***  
  
She had been planning this for a while, but she hadn't been certain whether or not she would  
  
go through it until now. Nor had she known this would somehow involve her stealing a  
  
helicopter, but that was how it was going to happen. But it was a strange world now, even  
  
stranger than it had been before. This was probably was an event that would not even register  
  
in those terms.  
  
Elspeth Parr suddenly felt very young. Growing up, she had always felt older than her  
  
age. Stranger, in many ways, though she hadn't know for a long time. Her father had been  
  
almost suffocating in his protectiveness towards her, but he was gone now. Soon, she  
  
though wryly, she would be joining him. They were badly in need of a conversation.  
  
But she kept on going, because at the moment this was the most important thing for her,  
  
in her life. Not the most brilliant or practical idea, but the fastest one they could think of,  
  
and Elspeth had quickly agreed, so here she was, arms pumping, legs racing in a blur of  
  
black against the snow that twinkled gently underneath floodlights. It occurred to her then  
  
that she had no blinked once yet since she started her sprint, and she didn't until she found  
  
herself taking down the single guard that stood over the Hawkeye.  
  
The helicopter rose with a jerk, lifting into a half-spiral as its black blades whirled in  
  
mechanical delight. The roar was loud, a groan in her ears as she maneuvered it around  
  
the white, marble dome. She stared. Peaceful. That was the first word that came to her  
  
mind in that moment. The world suddenly looked so peaceful. Quiet buildings stood  
  
drenched in snowflakes in front of her, and beyond them were the lakes, sleeping and  
  
oblivious to the chaos that surrounded them. She shivered, which broke her from her daze  
  
in time to avoid clipping the golden statue of Forward that stood silently on top of the dome.  
  
"Right." She gritted her teeth. It was time. There was no longer any point in waiting.  
  
Turning the helicopter away from the capitol, Elspeth turned it towards those sleepy  
  
buildings, saying a silent apology to them in her head as she accelerated.  
  
***  
  
The explosion sent them reeling, not to mention head-first into the concrete before them.  
  
Scully's first reaction was to turn and reach out to Richter whose eyes were wide in unabashed  
  
horror. She held onto his wrist long enough to see his pupils dilate, but not long enough to  
  
tell him "no," to tell him not to go.  
  
He was up and gone without another second's hesitation. The rubble seemed to hardly deter him  
  
as he hurdled and dodged his way out of the building.  
  
Scully winced as she aggravated her ankle injury. She slumped against the wall and looked  
  
at Frohike who could only shake his head. "Fuck," she cursed, drawing the word out long  
  
and hard. "Fuck."  
  
***  
  
"Fuck."  
  
She her a gasp, but her vision was blurred still., and there was a tightness in her chest. Pressure  
  
that seemed to burn all over the place. She hoped it was because she was in hell, because she was  
  
supposed to be dead. She had to be.  
  
"Elspeth!" It was Richter.  
  
Blindly, she groped for him, for his arms which quickly accepted her into their fold. She held  
  
back the groan of pain that hung on the tip of her tongue. "This ended wrong," she explained  
  
lamely. A pause, then she turned her sightless eyes to where she could feel his warm breath.  
  
"But you know that, don't you?"  
  
"Shh," he soothed, moving them closer to a spot near the building where snow  
  
and shadows hid them from eyes out in the dark. "I knew. I've had  
  
suspicions for a while, but it doesn't matter. It stopped mattering a while  
  
ago, Elspeth."  
  
She was quiet, then struggled to cover coughs that racked through her  
  
injured body. She rested her head on her arm.  
  
Richter turned and touched her hand, giving it a squeeze. Words hung at his  
  
lips but nothing was said. Then he touched her face, stroked her cold  
  
cheek. She blinked, her eyelids suddenly growing tired and heavy.  
  
"I . . ." she swallowed hard. "I fell out. How stupid is that? I fell out of the goddamned  
  
helicopter. So much for going down in a blaze of glory. Or going down at all,  
  
for that matter."  
  
He turned his head away from her and surveyed the area around them. The he  
  
looked up, his eyes drawn up to the sky as he saw the serachlights blink  
  
out, and the night fill with darkness. "Come on, now. You're safe. You're alive,  
  
that's what's important," he said stubbornly.  
  
Her smile was thin. "Hardly. This is the worst case scenario. A perfectly good helicopter  
  
destroyed in the name of what?" A deep, wrenching cough rocked through her, and she  
  
fell sideways, out of his arms and into the snow. "I was supposed to die in that crash.  
  
You know that. Two birds with one stone." Her voice softened and faltered at what she  
  
said next. "Although I suppose that's just a technicality."  
  
He tried to ignore that.  
  
"Promise me something?" She leaned up, her hand on his chest.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She was struck by clarity, as clear as the night sky. "When I die, you have to  
  
burn my body as soon as possible." A finger touched his lips, however awkwardly.  
  
"Promise me. You know why this has to be done. They can't get their hands on my DNA..."  
  
she grimaced in anguish and self-hate as the words rolled from her tongue.  
  
"Don't let them get a chance to win, Richter. Promise me you'll burn my body  
  
when I die."  
  
"If you die."  
  
"When," she snapped, then reneged. "Sorry."  
  
"If, then yes. If you wanted me to--"  
  
A sigh. "Don't say anything more," she whispered, reaching out to touch his face.  
  
"I like this."  
  
Richter smiled to himself as he forgot where he was for a moment, but he bit  
  
his lip in consternation a second later, remembering their situation.  
  
Recalling that Elspeth lay inches away from him, her life bleeing away, red  
  
stains on a white, crystal carpet.  
  
He let a note of child-like hope crawl into his voice, a feeling that he had buried  
  
deep away for what seemed like an age ago. "Do you think this vaccine  
  
really works, though? This miracle cure for mankind?"  
  
Elspeth made no response.  
  
"Elspeth, do you think the vaccine is for real?" he repeated, fear shaking his voice.  
  
But he only heard silence.  
  
Minutes he sat, still as death. Fear crept into his heart until it almost  
  
burst and he could bear it no longer. Finally, Richter turned to her.  
  
Her chest was still and no breath escaped from her rosebud lips, no puff of  
  
cold, white air indicating that life still lived in her body. Her dark  
  
brown eyes were wide open, directed heaven-ward, and her expression calm.  
  
The hard lines of bitterness and despair suddenly erased as she looked up  
  
towards the stars in child-like wonder, unaware of the horrors that had  
  
rained from the skies and dismantled their lives. Elspeth Parr now only saw  
  
the beauty of the stars as they glittered faintly in the winter sky above  
  
her.  
  
Richter moved slowly to her side, his whole body weighted down by grief.  
  
He shrugged off his sling and as he gathered her body in his arms, cradling her gently  
  
as though she would break, he let the first tears touch his eyes since he was a child.  
  
Tears that had elluded him when his wife and child had been murdered; tears  
  
that had finally been moved beyond the brink and now came crashing down past  
  
all the barriers he had worked all his life to build up. He pressed her  
  
body closer to his, stroking her face; brushing away the hair on her  
  
forehead.  
  
His heart breaking on each word, he whispered to her in death what he had  
  
never told her in life. "I love you," he choked, his face buried in her hair.  
  
"Did I ever tell you that? Because I should have." Then he held her until the  
  
warmth had left her body, and then--for a little while longer. 


	19. Chapter 18

****

Chapter 18

At the helicopter's explosion, Invictus, Mulder, Cass and John stood in the  
corridor crammed in a small doorway. A moment or two after the incredible  
noise, about five troops ran from the doorway still strapping on LBE's and  
slinging their M-16's over their shoulders. 

After another moment without any movement from the room, Mulder and  
Invictus decided to move forward toward the chamber that Frohike had  
described to them. John and Cass followed, each holding their weapon a  
little awkwardly.

As they approached the doorway, Mulder turned to the two companions  
following and gave them a smile of reassurance. John tried his best to  
return it, and Cass simply glared at him, breathing quickly and nervously  
through flared nostrils.

As they reached the doorway, Invictus edged his way along the side and  
pointed his index and middle finger at his eyes, indicating Mulder to move  
into the room and cover him as soon as he was inside. Mulder nodded and  
brought his weapon up at the ready.

Invictus took a deep breath and mouthed the count of three so that everyone  
would be in sync. On three, he grabbed the door handle and threw it open,  
throwing himself through it at the same time, his gun held ready  
chest-level.

Mulder flew in behind him, but nearly barreled into him, having to raise  
his gun with one hand and skid his feet to halt no more than a few feet  
into the room.

Mulder nearly panicked and brought his gun back up, scanning the room  
quickly, and then he too stopped where he was.

The room was empty. Save for a few stools, one that had been knocked over,  
no doubt in the rush of the soldiers to leave the room, the rest of it was  
bare.

Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but Invictus quickly brought his  
finger to lips, then pointed in the direction of the one door on the  
opposite end of the room. Mulder nodded and then turned to the doorway,  
motioning for John and Cass to follow him, but quietly.

They moved toward the door silently, and Invictus moved up to the small  
window that was about eye level and quickly peeked in. He turned to the  
rest of the group and held up two fingers, then smiled. 

With that, he swung open the door quickly.

Inside the room, the two figures, one, what looked to be a scientist in the  
perfunctory white jacket, the other a soldier. Neither turned to the heavy  
industrial door as it opened.

The soldier had both arms out, that the scientist was loading up with  
several small silver boxes.

"What was it?" The scientist threw over his shoulder at the open doorway,  
not turning from his task.

"I think it was the sound of the shit hitting the fan," Mulder said wryly.

At the sound of a voice that neither recognized, the two men both turned  
slowly to the four intimidating and armed figures in the doorway. The  
soldier flinched as if about to drop the cargo he held in his arms, but  
then stopped and thought better of it. The scientist simply straightened  
himself and took a step toward the doorway.

"What do we have here?" Invictus asked.

"Something you can't have," he said to the group, his voice not betraying  
any kind of fear.

Mulder was immediately on his guard, having in his experience found the  
scientific kind to have neither the bravery nor the machismo to be  
intimidating to a federal agent, much less four armed rebels.

Invictus looked around the metal plated room, directing his stare at the  
sinking and drifting telltale smoke of frozen nitrogen pouring from one of  
the open cabinets. 

"You don't seem to be in the position to argue, Dr. Joel," Invictus said,  
taking a step forward himself.

With that, Mulder flicked his eyes from the scientist to the soldier and  
back again.

The man was indeed the same Dr. Joel from the underwater fortress in which  
he'd been held, he realized. But the soldier's reaction was odd. He'd  
previously been looking down at the boxes in his arms, likely trying to  
figure out a way to get rid of them and get to his sidearm that was  
holstered at his side. But, as soon as Invictus had mentioned the doctor's  
name, he'd looked up at the scientist as a look of confusion washed over  
his face for a moment.

The doctor, on the other hand, had no reaction at all, save for taking  
another step toward Mulder and the others in the doorway. 

"Stop it right there," Invictus said, his voice low, as he raised his gun  
up a little higher, his finger poised read at the trigger.

Immediately, Mulder lowered his own gun and put his hand on Invictus'  
shoulder.

"Wait," he said, and reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out the  
small metal cylinder that Scully had placed there with a quick kiss and a  
just-in-case before they'd headed off down the corridor. It was the  
stiletto that he'd found in the sub, and had forgotten about until Scully  
had found it in his backpack. 

They'd decided to keep its existence to themselves for the time being, but  
at that moment, as he looked into the eyes of 'Dr. Joel' and Invictus'  
itchy trigger finger, the point was moot.

He raised it up so that the doctor could see it and pushed the small button  
on its side, the long awl shooting up with a hiss of air.

It was then that the doctor looked at them with any real kind of fear and  
took a step back.

Mulder had been right, then. The man was probably an alien bounty hunter.

Mulder stepped inside the chamber, past Invictus and stood menacingly in  
front of the scientist, the soldier simply standing with his arms full  
watching the scene play out before him. 

"You know, it looks to me," Mulder said, shifting the stiletto to his right  
hand, and his gun to left quickly, "that you're in a position you'd never  
really planned on." 

The bounty hunter took another slow step backward and cocked his head  
warily at Mulder.

"I'd say," Mulder said in a near ponderous tone, "somewhere east of the  
rock, and west of the hard place. Or would you rather have the coordinates  
in galactic terms?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bounty hunter lunged at him. 

There was a quick scuffle, and a crash, as the bounty hunter and Mulder  
tussled and the soldier seized the opportunity and distraction to drop the  
load in his arms and grab for his sidearm. 

However, in the next second, Mulder had the bounty hunter, who'd morphed  
back into his imposing and apathetic countenance, much to the shock of John  
and Cass, shoved against the side of the chamber with the business end of  
the stiletto making a small indention at the base of the hunter's skull. 

Invictus, who never seemed to be shocked by anything, had swung his weapon  
to the soldier.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Invictus said jovially to the soldier, who paused his hand at  
his holster, "not a good idea, sport."

The soldier took a step back from the mess he'd just made on the floor and  
raised his hands above his head.

"There you go," Invictus said, moving to him and bending down to inspect  
what lay at his feet.

Most of the small metal containers had broken open, spilling frozen  
nitrogen and vials, which lay scattered and broken, but two had been  
spared. Invictus opened one and removed the intact vial with the bottom of  
his shirt, holding it up for the rest to see.

"Jackpot," he said.

They'd found the vaccine.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Richter stood, his weary knees creaking and popping as he rose. He lay  
Elspeth down gently.

He took a deep, steely breath and looked resolutely back toward the capitol building, several hundred yards away. There were several small figures leaving the building and heading quickly his way. He wasn't sure if they were friends or foes. He moved to run to a nearby building that was still standing, however smoking, but stopped, glancing back at Elspeth's body, his jaw tightening to fight the wetness in his eyes. He'd made her a promise. And however gruesome and wrong it seemed, after all they'd been through, this was one he was determined to keep. If not for her reasons, for his. 

He hefted her body up and over his bad arm's shoulder, wincing a bit, and made off toward the   
building, keeping as low to the ground as he could. 

He heard the hum of motors approaching in the distance, and paused at the door of his   
destination, looking back at the wreckage of the helicopter, and then kicking the door in.   
Smoke immediately poured from the open doorway, but he ignored it, intent upon finding its   
source.

He began to weave through the scattered items that littered the floor, hoking and sputtering   
from the smoke, his eyes tearing so that he could hardly see. Through his tears though, he saw  
the faint glow of what he was looking for through one of the doorways directly in front of him.   
He made his way through the entrance to the room and turned his face as waves of intense heat   
seared at him from the room. 

The entirety of the room before him was ablaze, and he paused for a moment, closing his eyes   
and already regretting what he was about to do. He touched her face briefly and was flooded   
with images of what could have been, but he blocked them out quickly.

The lack of oxygen was getting to him, and his knees nearly buckled. He moved forward before   
they did, throwing Elspeth's body into the inferno, tears streaming down his face that had   
nothing to do with the acrid smoke that clawed at his eyes.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"That's it?" Cass tripped forward several steps and then stopped again,  
"that's the vaccine?" 

Her tone was reluctantly hopeful, and Invictus glanced up to Mulder, the  
vial still in his hands.

Mulder nodded, pushing the bounty hunter further into the wall for  
emphasis. He recognized the dark amber   
substance that had saved Scully from the affects of the black oil so many  
years before, and his stomach   
flopped at the memory.

"Yeah," he said, "that's it."

"Well let's go!" Cass said, grabbing at one of the surviving boxes, and  
Invictus picked up the other and   
stood.

"Not so fast," John piped up from the doorway. "What are we going to do  
with them?" He pointed at the   
soldier and the bounty hunter and looked at them warily.

"Take him outside," Mulder motioned to the soldier with his head, "I'll  
take care of this guy."

Invictus looked at him a moment, then gave Mulder a brief nod. He then  
turned to the soldier and motioned his gun in the direction of the doorway.

"You heard the man," he said, the soldier moving slowly, eyeing the scene  
before him with trepidation. He seemed to want to be where he was even less  
than everyone else in the room. 

When Invictus, Cass, John, and their prisoner were safely out of the  
chamber, Mulder put his mouth to the ear of the bounty hunter and whispered  
harshly.

"You aren't the first of your kind that I've killed, and I promise you  
won't be the last."

With that, he sunk the stiletto deep into the creatures neck, shoving it's  
body to the ground, and leapt out of the room, slamming the door shut on  
the toxic blood oozing out of the creature.

He then moved to the doorway, where John, Cass and Invictus were waiting  
for him.

"What do we do with him?" Mulder asked Invictus, who's gun was still  
trained steadily on the soldier.

"Well . . ." Invictus began, turning all of the way to the prisoner and  
taking a step closer to him.

The soldier took a step back as well, and finally opened his mouth,  
speaking for the first time.  
"Look," he said, "just go. I won't go after you. In fact, I almost hope you  
make it."

Invictus regarded the man for a moment and then stepped toward him,  
removing the man's weapon from his   
holster and taking another step back. "Good to know," Invictus said, "now  
get on the ground, face down."

The soldier winced, likely convinced they were going to kill him, but did  
as he was told anyway. 

Invictus stepped up to him and bent down. "You can either tell them we  
cold cocked you," he said,   
"or we can do it for real."

"I'll tell 'em," the man said, his voice muffled by the floor.

"Okay," Invictus said, but then knocked the man in the back of the head  
with the butt of this gun anyway.

He then stood up and shrugged to the trio in the doorway that was looking  
at him rather oddly.

"Never did trust the military," he said, then moved quickly out of the  
door, the metal box tucked safely   
under his arm, and the rest of the group following quickly behind him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

As soon as they emerged back into the room of rubble, they glanced around,  
found the room otherwise empty, and ran to the fallen pile of ceiling where  
Scully and Frohike were waiting for them.

Frohike scrambled up to meet them, and bent to offer Scully a hand, but  
Mulder already had his arm under hers and was half hauling her to her feet,  
and half hugging her.

He swept the hair back from her forehead, and then swung his head round,  
searching for something.

"Hey," he said, "where's Richter?"

"Gone," Scully said, "when Elspeth. We couldn't stop him."

Mulder made an almost disgusted face and nodded, accepting the situation. 

"We'll have to leave without him" he said.

Cass spoke up. "We can't just-" 

"We'll have to leave without him," Mulder snapped, clearly unhappy with the  
situation

Cass recoiled and took a step backward, closer to John. 

"Mulder," Scully said quietly, squeezing the hand that she was holding. He  
looked down at her and   
closed his eyes, apologizing silently.

"We'll figure it out," Invictus said, "but right now we need to get the  
hell out here like we stole something."

"We did," Cass said, still a bit miffed, and shifted the box under her  
other arm. 

John reached out and relieved her of its burden, giving her a quick smile.

"Yeah," he said, "let's just go."

They all headed over to a doorway that led to a fire escape, but paused  
when Frohike stopped and turned to them. 

"You all head down and get away from the building," he said. "I'll catch  
up, there's something I have to do."

There was silence for a moment, but then the group all nodded and proceeded  
out the emergency doorway. Frohike's tone had, for once, barred any  
argument.

"I'll stay with him," Invictus said to Mulder and Scully, the last to leave  
through the door. "We'll catch up   
with you." 

They both nodded at him, as Mulder helped Scully down the ladder below  
them.

"Thanks," Mulder said, clapping Invictus on the arm and taking the vaccine  
from him, before he headed down himself.

Invictus then turned to Frohike.

"Well?" He said to the shorter man. "You want me to wait here or do you  
want company?"

"I'll be right back," Frohike replied, and then sprinted as best his legs  
could carry him down the corridor   
they'd emerged from not minutes before.

Invictus waited for a few minutes, wondering what exactly the hacker was  
doing, and then jumped, as Frohike catapulted himself out of the corridor,  
and up to where Invictus was standing.

"Go!" The running man shouted, waving his hands toward the emergency  
doorway frantically. "Go! Run!"

Invictus' mind flitted to a vaguely remembered Audi commercial from just  
before Colonization of a man in the woods standing while his friend hurtled  
from a thicket yelling at him to run. When they finally got to the car and  
gunned it down the road, the man's friend produced a candid shot of him and  
bear. 

Invictus threw open the door and took the steps down two at a time,  
ruminating in the back of his head that if Frohike had done the same to the  
soldier down in the lab, he was going to kill him himself.

As he jumped down the ladder onto the solid ground below, Frohike landed  
quickly behind him, surprisingly spry for his age and height. 

He cast about for a second before quickly spotting Mulder waving them over  
to a crumbled bit of building about 500 yards from the Capitol. They took  
off toward the waiting group and slid behind the rubble next to John and  
Cass, panting. 

"What the hell was *that* all about?" Mulder shot at Frohike, as the man  
struggled to regain his breath.

"What?" He panted. "You didn't think Langly and I came here to only *hack*  
did you?"

An enormous explosion punctuated his question, and they all threw their  
hands over their ears as the Wisconsin State Capitol building was blown to  
high hell.

As bits of paper and mortar fell around them, they all shot Frohike a  
questioning glare in synchronous head turns.

The man shrugged, on the verge of saying something when the screeching of  
tires ground to halt just behind the rubble in the parking lot Invictus and  
Frohike had just run across. 

Mulder, Scully and Invictus all grabbed for their weapons and peered around  
rubble warily. When they straightened and stood, the others did the same,  
curiously following their stare. 

Richter, his arm a bloody mess hanging at his side, and the rest of him  
covered nearly head to toe in soot, stood outside the open driver's side  
door of a large military Humvee, squinting first at the smoldering remains  
of the Capitol building and then to the ragtag band of rebels hiding on the  
other side of him. Elspeth was noticeably missing, and Scully knew without   
much more than a look that she was never going to see her friend again. And   
she knew that the Richter she had come to know was also gone, and in his place   
was this man, tired and withdrawn. Who he was now,probably only he would know  
She simply hoped that whoever he was, he would find a way one day to find   
peace with himself.

They stared at him as though he had come from nowhere. "Jesus," he said  
grimly, "you all need a ride?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pretended to be asleep as her heard Scully jiggle the door handle to  
their room. He heard her pause in the doorway, and then move across the  
room. Only then did he dare open his eyes.

She seemed to glide across the room, her back straight, her stride liquid,  
as her ankle had healed quite nicely, and a small omni-present smile on her  
face. She walked to the open window, the shimmery white curtains fanning  
her face, as the sunlight streamed in around her, a stark contrast as the  
photons of light that couldn't penetrate the strength of her body, much  
less her spirit, shone around her curves.

She breathed in the hot Arizona breeze and sighed, content. 

It was a sight Mulder couldn't help but relish.

"How is your mother?" he asked quietly, finally speaking up. There were  
times lately, when he'd wanted to want to wake her up if she was sleeping  
because he couldn't wait to hear what she would say next. He couldn't seem  
to get enough of her. Luckily, she seemed to feel the same.

Scully turned to him then, the sun now a back light, shining through her  
hair and infusing them with titian flame.

She smiled at him, taking the sight of him in as well, the copper tones  
that the Phoenix sun had melted into his skin contrasting sharply with the  
white of the sheets tucked under his arms. 

"She's good," she answered contentedly. "Reveling in the order and  
organization required to keep this   
going."

She took a step towards him, smiling, but paused when there was a sharp  
knock on the door.

Cass opened it then, hesitantly, and popped her head in giving them both a  
quick, apologizing smile.

"I'm heading out to the HQ," she said. "We've got a big group from Oregon  
and Idaho that just got here. Almost two hundred."

"We'll be up in a few, Cass," Mulder said from the bed. "Thanks." 

She smiled at them once more, and closed the door behind her.

They'd arrived in Phoenix, Arizona nearly three days after leaving Madison.  
Taking back roads where they could, expressways where they couldn't.

When they arrived at the location that Frohike had gotten from Byers before  
they'd separated, they were nearly bowled over.

Suzanne Modeski, Byers, and a contingent of resistance forces the Gunmen  
had been in contact with, had built up an impressive complex, complete with  
housing for thousands of people, supplies to feed and clothe them all, and  
a lab just waiting to break down the vaccine and reproduce it for the  
masses.

As Mulder laid in the bed of the room he and Scully shared, he ruminated on  
how far they'd come. There were people coming in every day now, sometimes  
in the hundreds, sometimes in the tens, to receive the vaccine, stocking up  
and then leaving a few days later to spread the word to the world that  
there was indeed a vaccine, and they could indeed get it. 

They even had an impressive defense system, and arsenal of weapons  
protecting them and the precious vaccine they were continually  
manufacturing. 

Phoenix had truly been as good a place as any to house the rebuilding of  
the modern world. As they knew it, anyway. Like the phoenix, from the  
ashes, they too, were rising again.

Scully drifted to the bedside and sat down, the weight shift causing Mulder  
to list a bit toward her. He let gravity roll him the rest of the way until  
he hip was pressed to her back.

She smiled at him and then looked back at the window, squinting a bit as  
the sun streamed into the room. 

Mulder caught a hint of something amiss, and stroked her shoulder.

"What is it?" He asked without pretense.

She swallowed once and then turned to him, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Invictus is gone," she said matter-of-factly.

"What? What do you mean gone?" He asked, sitting up a bit, and propping his  
head up onto his hand.

Scully shrugged. "He left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, Mulder," she said softly, "maybe the same place he came  
from."

Mulder reached up and fingered the small cross Scully still miraculously  
wore around her neck.

"Maybe he did just that," he answered.

Scully grabbed his hand and held it, smiling down at him. She stood and  
pulled on it to heave him up, but he easily pulled her back down and onto  
the bed with him.

"Come on Mulder," she said, finally relenting and leaning back against him,  
"you told Cass we'd be right there."

He tilted her chin up toward him and stole a long, smoky kiss. 

"So, they'll understand," he said, kissing his way down her neck, "we're  
doing this for the good of mankind."

"Hmm?" Scully inquired absently, enjoying the sensation too much at that  
point to put up much of an argument. "How's that?"

"We're procreating," he mumbled into her shoulder.

She chuckled into the hair that had fallen into her face and reveled in the  
feel of his cleanly shaven face running along her skin.

He lifted his head then and leaned into her, nose to nose, talking in a  
pillow whisper. 

"I've seen too many miracles to discount them altogether, Scully." 

With that, she couldn't disagree. 

  
END CHAPTER

Epilogue and Thanks  



	20. Epilogue

****

Epilogue 

  
The world was indeed, new. Its surface was altered; its cultures   
upheaved; its people-changed. What had been, was no longer. 

The world was repainted in new shades of gray and black- its canvas covered  
in the paints of blood and tears and sweat.

People had been ripped apart. And yet somehow, new alliances were formed,  
friendships established, families formed.

And the things that became most important were the things that no one could  
remember. And yet the void was filled, for better or for worse, with the  
things that no one could forget.

THE END

XxXxXxXxXxX

Feedback: red_phile@yahoo.com and kelida_flynn@hotmail.com 

Author's Notes and Thanks:

Kelida Flynn: Four years later and one story finally complete, I'm off to  
retirement land. This calls for thanks, so I want to first of all thank  
Slippin' Mickeys, first of all for being my co-writer, but mostly for being  
my friend. Smart asses are hard to find, and some of them just aren't that  
funny. She just happens to be. Go figure. Maybe it's the red hair. Or  
maybe I'm just saying that 'cause she's probably got 8 inches on me and  
could beat me within an inch of my life if she tried.  
And I want to thank the MNL, especially Regina for being the poor soul  
that had to edit this bitch, and to Kim who's just fantastic for being  
there and helping us get this story out there. Both are worth all the  
million-dollar words I could muster up, OED in hand.  
Also thanks to Meredith and MCA, who at the very beginning were just so  
great, and just so supportive to me, not to mention inspiring. You want to  
talk great XF fan fic writers, here are two of the best out there. Hands  
down, no argument, because beautiful, introspective writing like this is  
hard to find, and they transcend so much that is out there.  
Finally, thanks to those who have been supportive on my past stories and  
on this one, especially Twyla-who incidentally writes the BEST feedback in  
the free world. It's rare thing to find someone who writes creative  
feedback, and she had the market cornered. So thanks, Twyla, wherever you  
are. And big thanks to Lucy G. without whom this story might have festered  
in incomplete land. So don't go around throwing any of those weird  
walleyed fits, m'kay? You're the best, btw. Did I tell you that?  
So yeah! I'm done! Hope you all enjoyed the story if you made it this  
far.  
So smell ya' later, X-Files Fan Fic, it's been interesting.

  
Slippin' Mickeys: Well, I doubt I'm finished with XF fic, just when I think  
I'm done something on the show just isn't quite right and I have to pull  
out the ole "Oh, criminy. Here, let me do it. Again." Suffice it to say,  
I'll keep it short and sweet. First off, thanks to Kelida Flynn. This fic  
wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the germ of the idea you came up with,  
and your fantastic writing. If this fic is any indication, the publishing  
world had best look out for you, you'll be kickin' ass and taking names in  
no time. I also want to thank the MNL. Most especially Reg, our poor  
editor, and Kim, full of endless support. I also have to give props to  
Twyla and Lucy. You girls single-handedly kept this fic going. So from the  
bottom of my heart, thanks!!

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